Russian Bread & Dragon Sweat
by dragonchiclet
Summary: AU Psychothriller - Fei/Misha/Aki/Asami&Yoh are up against an evil!Yuri, amongst other issues. Heavy stuff (disturbing concepts), shameless fluff ("Kitsch") and a serious "M"-warning for some of the later chapters. Some OC's. By now far gone from my start up inspirations - but you'll find those, and further story notes, in my profile
1. Chapter 1

"Come on, Misha, what's up with _you_?"

Lounging against the counter of a somewhat seedy student's pub two young Russians were scolding a third one, a blue eyed, wavy haired blonde, who's handsome open face was rather flushed.

"All moony and mopey…you're no fun at all. And shouldn't you be going easy on that stuff?"

The older one, a sturdy fellow with an interesting Slavonic face and an easygoing, friendly manner tried to intercept the blonde's hand.

"Mikhail Arbatov," the younger one, a sympathetic nerdy guy with horn rimmed glasses said urgently, "Alexej may have tuned you out early, but I didn't manage, and hey…"

The blonde avoided Alexej's hand and raised his glass, filled with what might have been clear water, but actually was vodka. With the persistence of a soviet tank he continued his monologue, which concerned a classmate of the three of them in History of Art. His friends had a very good idea who he was talking about, and were beginning to exchange significant glances. How the hell to stop their friend's … um … indiscretions? At least he hadn't mentioned any name yet…

"Liu Fei Long. The name in itself is a poem, and that guy…now have you ever seen him naked?"

"Um Misha…!"

"Hey wait a minute!"

Both of them spoke at once. It felt really hot in the pub now, and the blonde young Russian just ploughed on, working himself up into a boozy rant, not noticing or caring how uneasy his companions had become, even tense…

"You know, that angel's face, you would expect a real sissy body…", Mikhail swigged down another shot of vodka and continued even louder,

"I did, anyway." He chuckled drunkenly. "Ever since he came slinking up in class, so fucking mysterious, letting his niagara fall of black black hair cascade all over that sinful slit eyed…vision…doing all those crappy kung fu moves - "

"Hey! Would you look out! You got your stinking soviet swill all over my new antique leather jacket!"

"You", Mikhail turned around a bit to regal the person who had wedged in between to get to the counter, " make up your mind," he wagged his index finger, "is that rag antique or new", he was slurring his words, his audience rather silent by now … "contradictory messages are sooo over…"

The antique leather jacket backed off hastily, possibly worried something worse than vodka might erupt all over his eye's apple, causing the person on the bar stool beside him to swim into view.

"Umm, wait a minute, aren't _you_ in that class too?" The young Russian swung round all the way, abruptly alerted out of his boozy stupor, straining to focus through the hazy atmosphere of the bar.

His neighbour was a sombre, masculine figure in a pale trench coat, with an aura of quiet power, appearing slightly out of place in this pub frequented mostly by students in their twenties.

"Yes, you are!" Mikhail stared. "But you are always silent, not like that Feilong, who's" , now he sounded - pissed off? " who's … also, like, clever?!" … he shook his head. "Always the witty comeback … and his type ought to be shy! Or at least laid back! It's wayyy too much going on for one single guy … and that isn't even counting his body, which I did get a look at today at the public pool, I can tell you, but that _was_ a surprise .. " …. he twitched a little as if to shrug off some fly …. "hands off! Why are you nudging me, Alexej? And you Pjotr, what is your shoe doing at my shin? Get away with you … no, not you" - to the trench coat - "you can stay, at least you're keeping your great lumbering body off of …." he suddenly trailed off, eyes widening. "Oh."

The compact, intense man was returning his gaze impassively. A realization sparked off in Mikhail's befuddled mind and, relentlessly, exploded into sober awareness.

"You. Are always. With Him."

Had he spoken out loud? He was already no longer really seeing the man in the trench coat, his visual focus having readjusted to the range that must include the space beside that irritating presence…

Time slowed down, a black vacuum with sparking electrons in it's periphery. Mikhail felt a rush in his ears and hardly noticed Alexej's hand steadying him when the pressure wave of electrical charge crashed against him -

"soooo… and what would you say to some hands on experience with my - what did you call them? - crappy! kung fu moves, dude…"

(to be continued)


	2. Chapter 2

Lightning would have been slower and not so electrifying, and lightning would certainly not be smelling of … honey, some hint of hot ginger scones, whiskey, chlorine, a whiff of patchouli, blood red roses, musky sweat ... Mikhail could have swooned alone from that, had not the leather boot pressing into his jugular and the scorching glare sweeping from those sparkling, slitted dark eyes made him faint in the head and weak in the knees, and a bit tight in between.

Shiny black hair flying all around his exotic, glowing countenance, Liu Fei Long, for of course it was him, adjusted his stance before the Russian could grab his foot to unbalance him, bringing up the side of his hand instead to his classmate's neck.

"Answer, quick!", he hissed, and in a dismissive aside to his companion, "(in Cantonese) won't need your help with this fool, Yoh!"

Dazed, Mikhail felt Fei's hot breath, laced with Chinese spices, ghost over his face, and a heaving chest press close to his own … it seemed impossible to get enough air …

Around them Mikhail's friends and also the pale trench coat shifted, like dancers in a ballet, awaiting the cue for mass action, should one of their principals falter…

"Dah!"

Mikhail had actually spoken.

"What do you mean 'dah'?", Fei mouthed testily, " 'dah' as in Dadaism?"

He applied a little more pressure with his hand, causing the Russian to gasp and roll up his blue eyes in his head. Alexej and Pjotr closed in and Yoh reflexively assumed a protective stance.

"Or is it 'dah' as in the one year old's speech, dahdahdahdahdah….", he whispered into Mikhail's ear, who looked as if about to collapse, even though Fei had completely released the pressure on his neck.

"Dahdahdahdahdah…as befits the stage of your brain development!"

"Yes", Mikhail uttered faintly, " 'yes', 'dah' means 'yes'…"

"It's Russian", the younger of Mikhail's friends, Pjotr, put in helpfully, "the Russian word for 'yes'!"

"Yes?"

Black narrowed eyes and blue wide ones locked beams, the tension palpable. Fei, still invading Mikhail's space, had become very still, the dark halo of his hair framing the perfect oval visage of a medieval Madonna. The high voltage he was radiating black lighted his stunning beauty into something completely out of this world. Even the bartender, a shaggy haired blonde kid, who had been watching the two of them wary of a brawl, got a dreamy, vapid look.

Mikhail, on the other hand, seemed to have grown, half rising from his lounging position, his body language morphing from shock to … attack? in one missed heartbeat. He leaned in slightly.

"Yes."

The Russian's aura, surprisingly intense and powerful for such a drunken clown, hit Fei like a solid wall, making him blink for one heady moment. What was that? Hadn't he stuck to just one shot of whiskey, knowing by now what alcohol, alas, did to him? Leather, soap, sandalwood, lemon, fresh sweat and also chlorine met his slightly flaring nostrils, bringing with it another human essence. When he opened his eyes again he saw the Russian stare at him with a strange expression, leaning in even more, until their noses almost touched.

He spoke softly, almost shyly, completely lacking his usual banter and bravado.

"Yes. I say yes to any kind of experience with Liu Fei Long."

(to be continued)

2


	3. Chapter 3

A cold waft of air washed over them all.

Fei sprang back, and Mikhail shook his head as if awakening out of a trance.

"Hello Professor Asami!"

The door closed again behind the newcomer, a strikingly handsome tall Japanese man in his early thirties, wearing rather formal dress for a student's pub.

"Hi Akihito", he greeted the bartender, who suddenly seemed a bit nervous. Obviously he knew this impressive person, who looked more like a politician or even a high class gangster than a typical, slightly dowdy university professor. Since the scruffy bartender kid appeared to have sprung from some hippie commune, they formed a very unlikely pair indeed.

The three Russians weren't taking any notice of the encounter at the bar, however. They were all staring at their Chinese classmate. Fei Long had shrunk back into the depth of the pub, wide eyed and blanching, as if he was seeing a ghost. His companion, Yoh, reacted too; but he remained at the bar, stony faced and tense, as if preparing to fight at moment's notice.

The young Japanese Professor gave a noncommittal nod towards the rest of the pub and strode to the bar, coolly perching onto the bar stool next to Yoh, the one which must have been Fei Long's before.

"Don't you have some bourbon for me, Aki?" he said playfully. The bartender startled into action like a flustered bunny. The newcomer's forceful personality seemed just as out of place as his three piece suit and his immaculately gelled hair.

"Asami!"

At that tone of voice a hush fell over the general hub-hub of the bar - that kind of tone spelled trouble. Most patrons turned to see who had spoken.

"Asami."

Out of his dark corner, Asami's gorgeous fellow Asian was beginning to move back to the counter, slowly, with the coiled tension of a panther. If he had seemed wired up before (at Mikhail's presumptions), that was nothing against the state he was in now. Oozing danger and pheromones he approached the cool Japanese, who had spun around at the sound of this voice, but otherwise reacted only with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

In a split second chaos broke out, as Fei Long hurled himself at Asami. Immediately Yoh sprang to Fei's help, but was it his agitation? he, too, had seemed shocked after all…he wavered only for the tiniest instant, and was shoved against Fei, almost dislodging his companion. And that instant was enough for Asami to gain leverage and land a stunning blow to the Chinese' head. Fei Long cried out in anger and pain. With an anguished exclamation Yoh parried Asami's attack. Both fell against the bar, in apparent deadlock. As if in slow motion, the bartender punched a number in the phone. Simultaneously, Mikhail dived over to his classmate, who had doubled over, gasping.

He came just in time to see Fei clutch his thigh (not his face, where Asami had hit him), cross his eyes, and begin sliding to the floor, lolling against the bar.

Mikhail caught hold of him and steadied him. Fei moaned and gave a shuddering twitch, then he became very still. Reflexively Mikhail held a hand in front of his classmate's nose and mouth - thank god, he could feel warm air moving - the Chinese was breathing.

Asami and Yoh had stopped fighting and everyone was crowding around the pair of them now. Mikhail felt as if in a dream.

Fei was completely limp in his arms, dark hair fragrantly brushing against his heated face, lithe body hot and pliant against his own tense one. He was also unexpectedly heavy for his slender frame. Mikhail tightened his hold with his right arm, panting a little, and supported Fei's silky nape with his left hand, easing the Chinese' lolling head onto his left shoulder, once again feeling his hot breathe caress his ear. Even if this posture was extremely strenuous, Mikhail felt he could stay like that for ever. How long it actually did last, swaying together, Fei locked tightly into his embrace, Mikhail could not have said later. An authoritative baritone pierced his haze - "Aki, a blanket", there was some rustling, "you two there, your jackets, and give us a hand", and more rustling. Something was being thrown onto the ground, and then strong hands were gently but firmly prying Fei Long from him. Mikhail fell back against the bar. Dazed, he watched his friends help the commanding Japanese professor and also Fei's companion, Yoh, lower the unconscious Chinese onto the ground. They settled Fei's unresisting body on the makeshift bedding, his friend's jackets forming a cushion for Fei's head.

The mysterious Asami had given up all pretence of coolth, dropping down on his knees beside the still form regardless of his elegant dress pants and the dirt on the pub floor, frantically feeling for Fei's jugular pulse. He raised his head, gaze locking with that of the bartender, who nodded slightly. "Ambulance is called, Asami-Sensei," he mouthed.

Mikhail knelt on the other side of Fei's head. Was he alive? He was so still. Gingerly, hands trembling slightly, Mikhail pushed up his eyelids a little. The young Asian's eyes were unfocussed, lolling up in their sockets.

"Breathing, yes," the Japanese was muttering, "pulse…seems stable…what the heck…", he looked up hectically, "help me turn him on his side!"

Together, they grabbed Fei's left arm and leg and pulled him over, overstretching his chin and stabilizing the position by shoving his left hand under his cheek, as Mikhail remembered from first aid. Mikhail continued checking on Fei's breathing, Asami on his pulse, and then there was nothing more they could do for the moment.

Only then, gradually, did Mikhail become aware of their surroundings again. Surrounded by gaping patrons, Alexej and Pjotr were hovering uncertainly. Aki was looking at Asami, as if waiting for a cue. Yoh was staring at Fei with an indefinable expression. Over the still form of the fallen Chinese, Mikhail raised his head, and for the first time the hot headed Russian and the immaculate, superior Japanese acknowledged each other.

"What the hell did you do to him!?" Mikhail choked out, barely recognizing his own voice.

Asami shrugged, but didn't try to hide his concern. "Nothing much! When he came attacking me I just put up a defensive stance. My hand came into contact with his forehead, but look for yourself! There isn't even any mark there."

Fei's lovely face indeed looked quite peaceful and unblemished, as if he had simply fallen asleep, his figure innocently flung into a relaxed sprawl, luscious hair spread out all over his dishevelled jacket. His clothes had ridden up a bit, revealing a strip of slender, surprisingly muscled waist, the skin glowing in a dusky golden tan. The shocked lull in the bar had not let up, everyone still crowding in, craning their necks to get a better look at the fallen angel.

Yoh bent over Fei and imploringly addressed him in Chinese, even shaking and pinching him a bit, but Liu Fei Long was not to be roused.

(to be continued)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

All the while a distant siren had been drawing near. Now all of a sudden there was silence, and abruptly the door was flung open as two paramedics rushed into the pub.

"Where's …oh."

The two uniformed men dropped down beside the still form.

"But I know him!" the younger one cried out. "He's in my General Studies' course_, _History of Art!" (Pjotr nudged Alexej, "did you know Takato's in medicine?")

Professor Asami addressed the paramedics tersely. "Pulse and breathing stable so far, no physical trauma that would explain his sudden loss of consciousness," he inclined his head, "and he wasn't injured later, since this young gentleman", indicating the stunned looking blonde Russian, "had the presence of mind to catch him before he could hurt himself falling down."

The elder paramedic acknowledged this information with an approving nod, never missing a beat in his routine. Carefully (in case there was a spine injury after all) they turned Fei over, then picked up pace, ripping open his black leather jacket, cutting apart, after only the slightest consideration, his tight fitting printed body shirt ("what's that…?" at the star-shaped gun-shot scar under Fei's left clavicle). Takato placed monitoring pads on Fei's bared chest, hooking him up to a cardiac monitor. The older paramedic shoved an iv needle into Fei's right wrist and fastened an oxygen monitoring clip on his index finger. A spiked green line sprang into life, beeping regularly. "Should we intubate him, Kirishima Sensei?", Takato glanced over at the monitor, "oxygen saturation seems ok…"

"I don't know…", Kirishima was performing a rapid series of arousal tests and trying to insert a short plastic tube into the Chinese' mouth, "doesn't respond to voice, touch, pain, but some protective reflexes seem intact and he's reacting to a goedel - tubus ….strange ….glucose levels?"

"…are ok, 72, neither hyper- nor hypoglycaemia…oh Misha! Hi!", Takato recognized his Russian classmate, "is Fei drunk?"

Yoh answered for Mikhail, "certainly not. He drank just one small whiskey. Hardly ever drinks…alcohol intolerance."

"Ok, yeah, we just covered that…not uncommon in Asian populations…" Takato mumbled, becoming somewhat self conscious as he noticed two more classmates, Alexej and Pjotr.

"Does anybody know whether he's got a chronic disease? Diabetes, epileptic seizures, heart or kidney disease? Drugs?" his elder colleague continued, unperturbed.

"He's completely healthy physically", Yoh said.

"How well do you know him?"

"Very well. I've known him for years. And he … hasn't done drugs."

"Ok." The elder paramedic straightened up, addressing the room.

"What happened exactly?"

Everybody spoke at once, ogling the young Asian's naked torso, more revealed than covered by the monitoring pads. The fluorescent lighting reflected off smooth shimmering skin and threw the Chinese' subtle abdominal muscling into sharp relief. Only a faint hint of gooseflesh and rather pointed dark nipples gave any indication that being half naked wasn't the dress code of choice down on the pub floor.

"It was a brawl - "

"But he didn't appear to have been hurt all that much - "

"And I can confirm he drank only one shot of whiskey, other than that only soda ever since he came here", Akihito added, "hi Takato, by the way".

"Oh, hi Aki", Takato lifted his eyes from his patient for only the shortest of moments, "you here, too?" the beeping faltered, and he automatically readjusted the monitoring pad next to the star shaped old wound. "Yeah…you told me you were doing a bar keeping stint. Hey, have you got any idea perhaps what's ailing our sleeping beauty here?"

There was a short lull. The traffic outside the bar was droning in a steady hum. "Wonder what's keeping that dratted ambulance doc", the elder paramedic was muttering, checking his walky-talky. "But so what, we'll just take him in anyway, in a minute…"

"He clutched his thigh!" Mikhail broke out suddenly. "He couldn't have been hit there, but he was clutching his thigh as if it really hurt before passing out." He covered his eyes with his hands briefly to recall that highly charged moment in detail. "It was the left one! Fei was clutching his left thigh, and he collapsed almost immediately afterwards."

The paramedics exchanged a look. The older one nodded. Takato hesitated, looking slightly embarrassed. "Oh, come _on_", Kirishima grabbed the sturdy clothing shears from his younger colleague, "no time to be squeamish." He immediately began cutting away at the close fitting, stylish blue jeans, starting from the unconscious Chinese' left hip, taking care not to hurt him, but never noticing he was slicing through the fabric underneath, too. The artificially faded blue cloth fell away from a smooth, sculpted thigh. The young Asian's leg was angled out in an unstudied, relaxed arch. His androgynous face was turned aside, as if in trusting recline, the full lips dimpling innocently at the corners of his slightly opened mouth.

This might have been the pose and face of a beautiful, athletic girl…but along with the rough blue jeans stuff some silky black micro fibre material slid off, too.

And, finally, here was the proof for what his classmates had known, but sometimes couldn't bring themselves to believe completely.

"So he is a boy, after all."

(to be continued)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"So he is a boy, after all."

That was evident.

A pang stabbed through Mikhail…this was not the way he would have wanted to have it happen. He was dazzled by Fei's beauty, even his genitals were beautiful, his cock, quite impressive for an essentially slender person, arrow shaped, his balls full and quite smooth, apparently he was one of those Asians with practically no body hair at all.

But…this was violation, and Fei's trusting pose and face in glaring discord with the fact that he lay helpless and naked, exposed to anybody's feasting eyes.

And someone here must have harmed him, Mikhail reminded himself, fighting to shake off the burning trance the sight put him in. Apparently, even the seasoned paramedic wasn't immune to the allure of the patient he had stripped so resolutely, hovering over him … oddly reluctant to touch the glowing, naked flesh in front of him.

Only when Professor Asami shifted impatiently, biting out angrily, "would you please get on with it…!" did he grab a torch from the medical kit and thrust it into Takato's hands.

"Give me some light."

He began methodically examining the long supple thigh, flexing and groping, motioning for his colleague to meander the revealing beam of light over every centimetre of bare skin.

And about two thirds up they did indeed find what they had been suspecting. The beam of light faltered only for the shortest of moments, while the two paramedics examined the red dot which certainly looked like an injection mark.

"Here, everybody! Please help look out for a syringe! No touching please, we have to secure it unhandled for the police!"

After a beat - the trance seemed to affect everybody - hectic activity broke out - Takato monitoring the unconscious, Kirishima helping with the search.

Mikhail could not have explained later why he resumed scanning Fei's chilled skin, they had found what they were looking for, after all…it was on the upper inner thigh that he suddenly halted.

"What is that!?"

Takato, checking Fei's breathing, heartbeats and blood pressure, spared a glance.

"What do you mean?" He looked closer. "Oh that! That looks old, that must be an old scar, nothing new, nothing relevant…"

But Mikhail was no longer listening. With growing fascination and dread he moved the beam upwards…and upwards. Fei's leg was already angled out slightly, but now he slid his hand, jolting at the first direct contact, under the hollow of Fei's right knee, pushing it up a little more until Fei lay in kind of a half spread eagle.

"We have it!" came the shout. "Oh the beauty of it…it's inscribed! We'll have to check if the inscription is correct…but if it is - and this would certainly match the symptoms - then our Asian patient was injected with ketamine. Powerful narcotic…used in veterinary medicine to bring down wild animals…", Kirishima carefully wrapped a 10 ml syringe in a handkerchief, "doesn't affect the ability to breathe, though…the victim won't suffocate. Problem with this stuff is, it gives really bad nightmares, hallucinations and such."

Routinely passing this information to his apprentice, the senior paramedic's tension lessened visibly. If it indeed ketamine was the cause of this, then his patient's life was not in danger … oh god. Since the wireless message had come through that the ambulance doctor was currently up over his ears in a highway mass accident, and reinforcement not to be expected all that soon, he had borne the full force of responsibility; Takato here was a promising but still very inexperienced young medical student. Oh God, ketamine! Let it be ketamine, and nothing else! Then all they had to do was let this young man sleep it off, perhaps inject some diazepam to lessen the nightmares…for the first time, he could allow himself the luxury to view his patient as the human being he was. Poor boy, with such a girly face, so strange here, in such a humiliating and scary situation…they should at least cover him up now with one of those body heat conserving aluminium foils…

"Hey, what are _you_ doing?!" Mikhail was squatting there frozen, gripping the pit of Fei's knee. Alexej had taken over the torch, and everybody around them was staring into the hollow formed by both of the young Chinese' upper inner thighs. Even Yoh stared, looking as if about to cry, and Asami, too, had whipped around, a baffling look of horrified recognition on his normally so coolly aloof face.

"What the… have you got no decency at all…" began the elder paramedic angrily, before trailing off in irritation and shock.

A crisscross of scars, some light, some rather deeper began a hand wide above the height of the injection mark, climbing upwards. They seemed to gain momentum further up, upwards into the nether regions, forming patterns at times, at time appearing to have been inflicted random. There were all kinds of different scars…burns, cuts, slashes and tears, a particularly ragged one almost reaching the rosy, puckered hole, which was badly scarred too. From this to the base of the cock regular surgical sutures seemed to have closed what might have been a deeper cut.

"Oh, my god."

There was a sickened hush.

"Sensei!" Takato cried out. "Sensei - - - I think he's waking up…!"

to be continued

3


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Oh, my god…"

It seemed impossible that none of this had been to be seen at first, from the full frontal view. Even from behind Mikhail couldn't recall having noticed anything amiss. Of course Fei had worn long Bermuda swimming trunks in the public bath - an experience that now seemed like something out of another life. Tentatively, but drawn by an irresistible force, Mikhail reached out to touch Fei, who quivered just barely discernibly, tracing his finger along the longest scar, the ragged one… "like me…", he whispered, almost inaudibly, "you are like me…"

"Eeeeeeuw …. gross!" out of the corner of his eye Mikhail noticed the irksome antique leather jacket had returned. Some dam in him broke and he turned on the foppish man in fury. "_You__'__re _gross. Fuck off or I'll _kill_ you, fucking perverted _voyeur_."

"Whoa, easy there! And you staring at him is ok, yes?"

"I'll fuuuucking killllll you … with my bare hands!" Mikhail shrieked, furiously lunging at the man, who snidely sidestepped.

"Misha!" Alexej fell into his friend's arm. "Don't let that asshole provoke you", Pjotr urgently whispered into his ear, "we think he's doing it on purpose, to distract us, we overheard him talking to someone on a mobile… 'we've got him, Professor', he was saying, "they're bringing him in', and then he looked at Fei in such a strange way, real sick!"

Fei was shivering now and his pretty face had taken on a pinched hue. And Takato was right: he was beginning to move, twitching a little, eyes fluttering beneath still closed eyelids.

"Yeah…fucking…that's the thing…", the antique jacket resumed his taunting, "you were finger fucking him…you touched him there…", he leaned in, a twisted grin on his nondescript central European face, "by the way, I think your Chinese darling is just waking up…let's see just how happy he is with his situation…"

A murderous, red haze threatened to choke Mikhail, but his friends quickly shoved him aside, blocking the view on this person, whose evil leering might indeed be a cover for the nervous excitement of a plan in action, the way he was shifting glances around, not really taking notice of the young Russian, more wary, apparently, of somebody else…. Takato was looking up in panic, Fei now softly moaning. "Sensei! Do something! Please!" The white in in the Chinese' eyes could be seen, he was weakly trying to curl up on himself, baring himself even more in the process.

Kirishima was holding his walky-talky, apparently receiving an urgent and disturbing call.

Fei called out feebly in Chinese, muttering unintelligibly, shivering violently now.

"Sensei!", Takato pleaded, "please…! Please, don't let him wake up like…that."

Kirishima hung up, troubled.

"Diazepam. 10 mg, fast."

He knelt in front of the young Chinese, who was straining to push up onto his arms, eyes wide and unfocussed.

"Can you understand me? What's your name?" the Asian just stared at him, breathing hard.

"He's Liu Fei Long. Fei Long is his given name."

"Fei Long!" Kirishima addressed his patient directly. "Fei Long, we are going to get you to the university hospital now. You're going to be fine in no time at all. And we're in luck: today there's a renowned specialist on call, and he has just requested to see you. His name is Arbatov. Professor Yuri Arbatov."

Fei screamed in terror.

To be continued

2


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Fei Long!" Kirishima tried calming his patient, "Fei Long, please, calm down, it's cool, everything's cool…the valium, Takato..!" He reached out to touch the young man soothingly. Fei screamed again and cringed away in terror, trying to escape. Since he was still not wholly conscious, nor very coordinated, this would have looked comical or perhaps pitiful on every other person, but with him…

Gorgeous muscles tensing, he staggered to his feet, his open leather jacket sliding off perfectly defined shoulders, dusky skin glowing. There remained only the slashed rags of his "Canto-Pop" body shirt and his ruined designer jeans and sports underwear, which pooled around his left ankle. In rising he had ripped off the monitoring appliances, and the machine ran amok, frantically beeping.

"Come on, you freak," goaded the antique leather jacket guy, an excited gleam in his pale predator's eyes, "that's it for you, you're done, you ugly monstrosity", he pounced. Lust and disgust were still battling in his rat's face when the man called Yoh efficiently took him out. So fast that no one could tell what exactly had happened, the obnoxious guy was lying on the floor, handcuffed, cursing. "You're mad!" he screamed, "you don't know what he is! You wouldn't defend him if you did!"

But Yoh had eyes only for his companion, circling him like a hunter. Fei seemed to recognize him, but this did not calm him. Instead his features slipped as if he had been hit. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it.

"The valium! Give me the valium", Kirishima cried. With badly shaking hands, Takato handed over the 10 mg diazepam syringe, which promptly fell down on the floor. He yelped in frustration, scrambling around between shuffling feet.

Now Yoh pounced, trying to herd his companion in. This roused Fei; he drew himself up to full height and turned burning eyes at him, spitting out something in Chinese that made Yoh flinch and look stricken.

Then the drug pulled him under again and he reeled, gazing about himself like a deer caught in the head lights. Yoh didn't dare make a move. Fei seemed to come to the conclusion he was surrounded. Barely able to hold himself upright, he had apparently decided on reasoning with his pursuers…

Rambling in a curious mixture of English and what was probably Cantonese, he sounded far younger than the way they knew him from class. But it wasn't so much how he was speaking, it was what he was saying, or wailing …"brother, don't"…was to be made out in between, and (his audience froze at that) "don't kill him"…"I'll do what you want"…in a bizarre reversal of Mikhail before it was Fei now who wasn't to be kept from baring his soul… "it hurts"…

"Stop him!" the shout wasn't even particularly loud, but so full of force and fury that even the antique leather guy on the floor jerked around. "Stop this at once!"

Only now did Mikhail realize that Professor Asami had not been in the main room with them, but had just come rushing in.

"I'll have your necks for this."

With the force of a firestorm he broke into the circle and was over at the confused young Chinese' side, who was just trying to pull off the rest of his ruined clothes. "Father, I always give my best to please you", he said in a small voice, in English, alas, before Asami slammed his hand onto his mouth. "Grab his arm now, you imbeciles", he roared, bending Fei backwards over the counter, bare skin pressed against the cloth of his suit, and holding him fast. With a searing stab of jealousy Mikhail realized that Fei wasn't resisting….even though the Japanese was roaring again, he was letting himself be held by the man he had attacked in full force earlier. His hair was splayed all over the counter, his lovely nakedness breathtakingly enhanced by the formal full dress of the forceful man pinning him down. He was even opening his legs a little, eyes fluttering closed, Asami's strong manly hands still clamped over his mouth and face…

Asami reflexively, even brutally, forced his legs together again, tightening his hold, causing the younger man to wince.

"I'll really have you sacked for this", the Japanese announced with such menace that Fei under him, still in the thrall of the drug's disturbing aftermath, began to whimper, eyes opening wide in fear . "What the hell is keeping you?"

But Kirishima was in undaunted professional mode again, effectively pressing down on the vein in Fei's wrist, pulling out the stopper and adjusting the diazepam syringe. The Chinese tried to pull away his hand, but the skilled paramedic had already injected half of valium, rapidly following up with the other half, when Fei didn't overreact.

The diazepam kicked in almost at once, and Fei relaxed into Asami's hold, gazing up in a dreamy stare. Over his submissive body Asami exchanged a glance with the hippie kid again, indicating the antique leather jacket guy on the floor. He released Fei, and Takato, hovering with the blanket, covered his classmate, at last. Swathed up to his neck, with only his face peeking through mussed long black hair, Fei looked vulnerable and adorable, like a child. With a thrill Mikhail remembered the force of his attack, even if it had been a sham one. No way he could have parried that, even if he hadn't felt so very drunken and overwhelmed at the moment. The hot nonsensical banter whispered in his ear, the Asian's tangy scent wafting against him. Later that scent had been mingled with an acrid smell of fear and stress, as he had collapsed into the Russian's arms in that scary dead faint.

Asami was watching Fei too. He looked up at Mikhail, including his friends, Takato and Akihito with a sweep of his head, and silently mouthed,

"Get him away!"

- to be continued -


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Get him away!"

He locked gazes with Kirishima, whose right hand was still placed on Fei. He surely hadn't intended this, but it was Fei's groin under his hand, and the gesture sent a shiver of arousal through Mikhail.

The paramedic seemed torn in an internal battle, eyes moving from Asami to Fei, lying still over the counter like an offering on the altar. The blanket had fallen apart at his neck, a pulse throbbing visibly in his smooth, arched throat. He shifted a little, as if sensing his fate hung in balance, and looked up at Kirishima in a clouded half smile.

The handcuffed pursuer made an angry motion, and Asami urgently inclined his head.

Everybody began acting at once. Kirishima rummaged in the medical kit, produced a syringe…and stabbed it into the rat faced man's thigh.

Akihito ripped off his crocheted Rasta cap and leaned over Fei. "Lift your head."

He didn't wait for the Chinese to obey, but cupped his face, and Takato, grasping his intent, swept up the mass of shimmering black hair, doing his best to coil it and stuff it beneath this counter culture "in" accessoire.

Alexej slipped out of his pants, standing in "Star Wars" Bermuda boxers. "Come on, Misha, don't be shy." Together they pulled the baggy pants over Fei's boots, sliding them up his slender muscular legs. Mikhail thought his friend was touching the Chinese far more than necessary. "Aren't you straight?!" "Yeah well, he's cute…", Alexej coolly rejoined, even grazing Fei's cock with the back of his hand, when carefully closing his own zipper over the Chinese' bare skin. "Anybody spare a belt? So my designer garb won't slip down again…"

Fei was beginning to comply, confused but docile. All of his classmates were helping now, liberally patting and fondling him, revelling in his hard muscles, soft skin and the way he was giving in to everything…

Pjotr and Mikhail both fumbled with Mikhail's jumper. Mikhail was now in an army green T-shirt with a pink hammer and sickle, his scars just beginning to show in the low neck line. They awkwardly stuffed Fei's arms into the floppy sleeves of the worn garment, supporting his back and chest. Fei took over obediently, pulling the sweatshirt over his head, just as Pjotr, dipping down a bit, briefly brushed his nose against one of the firm, rosy-brown buds on his bare chest.

"Oh, but you do smell good…"

"Oh no, not you too!", Mikhail growled, " don't force me to have both of you executed, you, my two best childhood friends!"

"Can you walk?" Akihito was asking the Chinese, who nodded uncertainly. Alexej and Mikhail each slang one of his arms across their shoulders, all three of them almost exactly the same height, Alexej perhaps a little more burly than the other two.

"Come on, quick! Follow me!" Akihito urged.

"You want to go out like that?" Pjotr made a face.

"Oh - what of it," Alexej nonchalantly began manoeuvring in his Yoda boxers, supporting a very shaky Fei, Mikhail staggering on his other side. "They'll put it down to student's pranks - I've seen worse…"

"Attend to him, and take along some more valium, just in case", Kirishima instructed Takato. With the utmost professional detachment he was performing the same routine as on Fei on the rat faced man now, not bothering to undress him, though. "I'll see you are excused."

A different kind of siren was growing louder.

"The police! Get a move on!"

Stumbling towards the back exit after a frantically gesticulating Akihito, Mikhail saw Yoh being blocked by Asami. He blurted out something in Chinese, and Fei turned his head in his direction, peering out uncertainly under the garish cap. With a jolt Mikhail realized he was crying, a lone tear making it's way down his right cheek.

The cold street air hit their faces, and they staggered into a little back alley, just as the blue and white lights began flashing in the night.

- to be continued -


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"That's some kind of weird sleepover…"

Akihito, Takato and Pjotr were lounging about on throw cushions on the floor of Akihito's small, cluttered alternative digs, whispering. They had lighted a candle, but left the room otherwise dark.

"You sure they can't see that from the outside?"

Akihito shrugged. The lights were still flashing through the night, and they could only imagine what was going on at the pub.

"You know, I think Misha has nothing to worry about", observed Pjotr, glancing at Akihito's bedstead, a mattress on the floor, where Fei was wedged between Mikhail and Alexej. His eyelids had already been drooping when they had lowered him down on the bed, and now he was unconsciously snuggling into both of them, his tousled hair, now freed of the cap that had tossed him into another sphere of life, rubbing into Mikhail's outstretched bare arm…his lips were parted again, a little, and his face, no longer lost or hurt, turned into the blonde young Russian.

Takato raised his eyebrows. "Must really like the way your friend smells…"

"I think our Chinese Helen of Troy likes Misha all right…", agreed Pjotr, fighting off a fleeting notion of what it would be like to dip a finger into those full lips, that soft, sucking orifice… "the warrior face that launched a thousand ships…and once Misha stops behaving like an idiot around him, he may even have a chance to realize it."

Mikhail was asleep too, his body nestling against Fei's, his free arm loosely claiming him. Even Alexej didn't seem to mind having very little space left, adapting comfortably to Fei's backside.

"You know, I'm straight", remarked Takato, "but that guy could tempt a dog…or a god…or both." Suddenly troubled, he added, "and obviously did." He looked at Akihito. "Did you see how mangled he is? Down there, I mean." Akihito nodded. "What do you think of it? Isn't that one of you activist lines, abuse investigation?"

The young Japanese with the shaggy, dyed blonde hair thoughtfully stretched out. Human rights posters could be made out on the walls in the semi dark, now that their eyes had adjusted, and demonstration banners were propped against the walls. Camera equipment was littering almost every free surface. "I've never seen anything quite like that", he said.

Pjotr wondered how old Takato's friend was. In spite of his boyish face and frame he couldn't possibly be as young as he looked.

"And I've seen a lot. I mean I've seen worse…but there is something strange about those scars. Not the random ones. Those look like abuse alright." Akihito hurriedly cast a glance over at the bed, but all three young men were fast asleep, Mikhail and Fei still in each other's arms (Pjotr wondered how Fei would feel about that waking up), Alexej softly snoring. "Who's he, by the way?" Akihito pointed at Alexej.

"Oh, a childhood friend of Misha's and mine, from Moscow", Pjotr paused, assessing the smaller of the two Japanese. About his own height, but that was were the similarities ended … what a delectable, lithe figure, and those large puppy eyes, definitely hip boy wonder vibes here … "Aljosha's into atomic physics or some such stuff and computer sciences. Really clever guy. Doesn't always look it, though…why?"

"Dunno, wonder where I saw him… you are the budding director? Tak told me a Russian at his course had been accepted at the Eisenstein Academy … ", Akihito stifled a yawn. "Sorry, that wasn't about you … maybe we should all take turns sleeping now…"

"Yeah, one of us should stay awake", Takato agreed, "Fei reacted very intensely to the ketamine, and Kirishima warned he may have flashbacks… I'll take the first shift."

He settled himself beside the mattress. "Pjotr, what happened to your friend Mikhail?" The green T-shirt had slid up, showing the lower part of his back. Thankfully it was rather warm in the room, they even had to crack the window a little ("some activist", Takato muttered, "and what about environmental issues?")

"We don't exactly know", Pjotr said. "Misha practically shoves his back into your face, but I don't think he feels as comfortable about his scars as he would like us to believe. He never really told us what happened. I think it has something to do with his uncle Yuri." He sat up, wide awake all of a sudden. "Now wait a minute! Professor Yuri Arbatov…I was so worried about Fei I didn't take any notice at the time!" They looked at each other. "The specialist who was waiting to see Fei…"

- to be continued -


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Professor Yuri Arbatov…"

"Do you know anything about him?" Akihito asked in a measured tone.

Pjotr looked over to where Mikhail was sighing contentedly, adjusting to Fei's body as if they had been sleeping together all of their life. He looked so relaxed, so different. Their provocative sunny boy, always putting on a show.

"No, I don't…we'd have to ask Misha himself…", Pjotr trailed off. "Oh." Mikhail had pulled Fei's head against his neck, burying his face in his hair. Pjotr slowly, wonderingly shook his head. "No. If you think I can wake up that happy guy…to hassle him with his creepy uncle…", he shuddered, involuntarily fingering Fei's clothes, which he had gathered and folded, carefully returning the photograph of a perhaps eight year old child to the breast pocket of the jacket, "you must be seriously pissed." He swallowed as Mikhail began grinding his hip against the willing body of the Chinese… "…holy shit…!" Alexej too was acting up, sliding his left hand underneath Mik's jumper, on Fei's skin…all three of them still asleep.

Akihito surveyed the idyll on his bed wryly.

"What is it with you Russians? Do you all have a thing for the Chinese?" He sat up, putting his arms around his knees. "Or…should Takato here and me be worried too? Is it Asians generally…?"

Pjotr shot him a grin. "Jealous? No, my dear - Akihito, it is? You can rest assured, no Russian bear will ravage you in your sleep…", he smirked a little, "…but perhaps a Japanese lion?"

That hit home! Pjotr enjoyed Akihito's discomfort. He was normally a mild, friendly person, but something about Akihito's politically super correct airs provoked him.

Also he felt Akihito had acted rather coolly towards Fei in his distress, avoiding more direct contact than was absolutely necessary, never looking at him directly, even snubbing him outright when Fei murmured something to him that sounded Japanese before conking out.

Takato, too, though he hadn't heard what Fei had said (his classmates knew he spoke several languages), had wondered about the slight hardening of his old school friend's boyish features. He was the only one of them not awash in some sort of gushy emotion towards Liu Fei Long. Himself, Mikhail, Pjotr…cool clever Alexej, always surrounded by attractive girls, groping the naked, touchingly drug confused Asian for all he was worth while helping to dress him (and look at him now, sidling up to him, thank goodness the other Russian couldn't see that). Yoh, Fei's companion, heartbroken…Professor Asami, passionately protective, with that strange look on his face when they had discovered Fei's scars (we shouldn't have seen that, Takato regretted, a wave of shame washing over him).

Aki, though, remained distant. And that was strange, because the Akihito he knew was actually an extremely warm, caring person underneath his sometimes arrogant activist ways. And not to be overwhelmed by pity and concern after what they had witnessed tonight…

"Feeling sorry for _Fei_? He would really hate that, I think…and I'm surprised he lets you call him that…"

Akihito was looking at Takato intently.

"You know him?"

Akihito hesitated.

"Met him personally the first time today. But I've heard about him. You are crazy. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"And you know everything, yes?" Pjotr raised his eyebrows. "Tell you what, you're not as cool as you pretend either. I noticed you…that's what we small guys with the big plush ears are really good at." He leaned in, not unkindly. "You're really jealous, aren't you…and not because of us Russians…but because that compatriot of your's, that James Bond, Rhett Butler, Professor Snape, Sherlock Holmes and Superman all rolled in one, that Asami, because _he_ cares for Fei…"

The night had grown still but for an occasional drunken shout or laughter.

Akihito's colour heightened, and he remained still for a while.

"What would you know…", he finally said with forced calm. "But that's not why I am warning you of Liu Fei Long. I am warning you of him, because however regrettable it may be what has happened to him…there is something you have to know about him. He is a Triade leader."

- to be continued -


	11. Chapter 11

"Chinese Mafia? Our Fei here?"

"Isn't that going a little too far - just for a headline?"

"He's not_ your_ Fei. And no - it's so widely known, it wouldn't make any sort of headline. Perhaps a footnote in a society column - Chinese Mafia leader takes his hobby to a new level - enrols in University General Studies course History of Art…although I doubt most society reporters would dare dab their sticky quills into a hornet's nest like that…"

"But…he's so young!"

"So? Do you know how old he is?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, we do", Takato said, "it was his birthday some weeks ago, February first…",

"yes, when we went to the cathedral, meeting early, for the light, and it was a sunny day, icy cold…",

"It was his special wish. We can do that, for our birthdays, make special requests, mine was Michelangelo's Creation of Adam - didn't go to Rom, alas..",

"…and he was sitting in a pew, awash in the coloured light, looking real happy, even that sinister person, that Yoh…oh, so he's a bodyguard, of course…even he downright cosy…"

"yes, I remember," Takato said, "and then you asked him how old he was. I remember thinking that was kind of a personal question, he was always a little reserved about himself…I can understand that better now, of course. But I thought that you with your Woody Allen charisma" - "what?" - "well, yes, that you could pull it off…"

"Well…he did react a bit strange at first - I wondered whether perhaps he was a kung fu movie star and required to lie about his age - but then he gave me a real nice smile, real warm", Pjotr recalled dreamily, "and said twenty five. It was his twenty fifth birthday. And that he was waiting for a child to call, and hadn't turned off his mobile, left it on buzzer mode, and if I thought our god would mind."

"And you protested your atheism, and then the curator sneaked up on you and _hissed_ at both of you to shut up…", grinned Takato, "Fei looked so cutely caught in the act, real young for his age in fact, and in that moment that Yoh guy turned toward him in a way that I felt certain he must be in love!"

"Yeah well, wouldn't be the first body guard to take body guarding to the next level! Think of a certain Mediterranean princess, or an American Pop Diva…at least Fei can't get knocked up by Yoh…"

Akihito rolled his eyes.

"I think you are both naïve beyond even the mushiest bourgeois conceptions…"

"Shhh…"

Illuminated by a shaft of pale moonlight the arrangement of bodies on the bed was shifting, the central figure rising.

Takato tensed, his fingers furtively groping for the diazepam syringe. Liu Fei Long was propping himself up on his right elbow, his shadowy hair half falling over his face. Although his eyes were glinting in the moonlight they couldn't tell whether he was properly awake, but he seemed calm enough.

They remained completely quiet, but the Chinese wasn't taking any notice of his surroundings.

He slowly, wonderingly reached up with his left hand - the three watching young men held their breath - and touched Mikhail's brow. The young Russian turned his face into the touch. In this moment he looked beautiful too, open and eager. Fei began trailing his hand along Mikhail's clear profile, hesitating for a moment on the Russian's pursed lips. Mikhail's breathing quickened; Takato felt sure he was awake, although he held quite still and kept his eyes closed. The bluish light gave Fei an ethereal appearance, as he continued tracing a finger over Mikhail's cleft chin, along the firm, stubbly jaw line. When he arrived at the ear, using all of his fingers now to ghost over the shapely, moulded shell, Mikhail gave an audible gasp. But Fei did not pause, obliviously letting his hand slide on into the wild, silvery curls. He remained that way, gazing at Mikhail as if sleep wandering, lips parted. Mikhail had opened his eyes, staring at him, breathing hard.

- to be continued -


	12. Chapter 12

Mikhail had opened his eyes, staring at him, breathing hard.

Otherworldly and stern, shimmering strands framing a countenance so perfect it disappeared, leaving space only for dreams…as in electromechanics, where it is a certain mixture of matter that makes the resistance to current almost vanish, not the matter as such, Fei too was made of flesh and blood…but…Mikhail was afraid to reach out, afraid this was a mirage, would ripple and dissolve once he moved. Every nerve was tingling with Fei's touch, his hand still in his hair…

Fei dipped down, pressing his mouth chastely against Mikhail's. All thoughts of transcendence evaporated instantly…the Russian completely lost it, sucking and pushing into that opening, that fleshly taste of heaven. A soft stifled moan added sounds of heaven. Fei's body melting against his, Mikhail cried out as he began pawing him wildly. He had to feel him, had to feel everything, everything he had seen! Hectically working his trembling hands all over him, Fei now writhing, their mouths locked again, he shoved under the borrowed belt, right into the humid heat. Fei was erect, the tip of his cock wet. Mikhail's shout would have woken the dead. He ripped loose the belt, ruining it, and tore down Alexej's trousers, once again exposing his love. Pausing for one nanosecond to inhale Fei's intoxicating scent from his hand he grabbed him, squeezing, shooting over the top almost at once. He knew he should restrain himself, follow a choreography, but he felt completely beside himself, soaring above earth in a delirious bubble. Vaguely, as through a long tunnel, he saw Fei's surreally beautiful face open up completely to him…and he came in a spray of stars, falling against him, panting in panic.

This should, in all rights, have been deeply, hopelessly shameful…except it wasn't. They lay in each other's arms, Fei's strong slender body pressing up against him as if it were the most natural thing in whole universe. Fei's hands were once again travelling over him…this time from his scalp, over his neck, into the neckline of his t-shirt…Mikhail stiffened slightly. But Fei never faltered, never seemed to question what he was feeling there. Mikhail wondered fleetingly whether he had seen him, too, in the public bath. He did not seem surprised, and Mikhail remembered that other sexual partners had shown every reaction from shock over horror, to, worst of all, feigned indifference, making everything from then on stiff and stilted. It was not like that at all, this time. He felt a rush as if dissolving, and now he was melting into Fei, making small, yelping noises…

He was already hard again. "Will you strip for me", escaped his mouth in Russian, before he could stop himself. Fei could understand Russian…he knew that…but the Chinese, although still smiling up at him, did not react…Mikhail was too excited to think, and began pushing up his own jumper. He paused when the clothing was over Fei's head, gasping at the sight of his smoothly muscled torso, the pectorals just slightly rounded. He was so strong. If he didn't want this, he could have easily fended the Russian off, not even needing his martial arts skills. A sound came from within the jumper, and Fei wiggled a bit. He was as if restrained right now, with the trousers around his knees and the jumper around his arms, covering his head. Mikhail felt the chaotic heat rise in him again. Leaving Fei as he was for the moment, he wanted to caress his beautiful torso with his nose and tongue, drowning in his smell, but again lost composure diving wildly into his crotch, sniffing and licking, grabbing his ass cheeks, one finger probing…and now Fei was resisting. Mikhail stopped cold.

What was he doing? He knew the Chinese wasn't completely awake, had known it all along…bottomless anxiety flooded him. Releasing Fei of the jumper he scanned his face for signs of anger or fear. But the Chinese only seemed rather out of it, as if something about that last act had thrown him out of himself and he was hovering slightly beside his body. Freeing him too of the trousers, Mikhail covered Fei's naked body with his own. "What did I do, my love, what have I done…", he cried, frantically searching the Chinese' features for an answer, but Fei was like in the pub before, only this time not speaking, just gone…

Mikhail desperately stroked his hair, again and again, finally whispering,

"where are you?" and exhaled a kiss on each slanted, darkly glittering eye, gazing wide. Tears falling freely on the lovely, vacant face, Mikhail pushed Fei's legs closed much like Asami before him had done, not angrily though, but tenderly and sad.

He said something, halting at first, that sounded like Chinese, seeming to repeat again and again the same phrase…following this up with some passionate and resonant Russian. Fei became very still…and barely a minute later both of them were breathing deeply.

The moonlight had wandered on, and it was dark and quiet in the room. Alexej had woken up early on during this mad encounter, watching with gleaming eyes, and the other three hadn't made a sound (not that either of the two had taken the slightest notice of anyone).

Now Takato stirred. "What did he say?" he whispered.

"The Chinese, Cantonese actually, I don't know. Wonder whether Fei could understand. Misha's been studying Cantonese for some time now. First time I came into our communal bathroom and he was standing in front of the mirror practicing, 'wingchingchangchong'", Pjotr mimicked what he thought sounded like Chinese, "I thought he'd gone mad. He said it had been really difficult to find Cantonese - Russian, it was all Mandarin - Russian, in the end he had to settle for Cantonese - English…", Pjotr was rambling a bit, still shaken by what they had witnessed.

"And what did Mikhail say in Russian?" Surprisingly, it was Akihito who asked.

Pjotr hesitated. Finally he translated in a low, halting voice.

"He said he wanted him for life, not just one night. He said he wanted to be sure he wanted it too, and was not just half gone, and…conditioned to it by…torture."

- to be continued -


	13. Chapter 13

"…conditioned to it by…torture."

Akihito woke with a start. Sunlight was streaming through the dirty windowpanes, single, dust specked beams highlighting his dishevelled small flat. He looked about himself.

They were all asleep. Takato was sprawled on a floor cushion beside him, Pjotr, who should have stayed awake as the last one on watch shift, was sitting propped against a bunched up jacket beside the book shelve overlooking the mattress, his head lolling on one shoulder, also softly snoring.

Apprehensively, the host of this strange overnight party lowered his gaze. He didn't know what he had expected - someone gone, someone dead - but for the moment, the scene was peaceful enough.

Alexej was sleeping, unperturbed. He had taken over the first shift, as he had already slept a bit. Akihito recalled being roused apologetically by him - "sorry, you're Akihito, yes? can't seem to get Pjotr or our splendid doctor here awake. But all's cool - our sexy patient hasn't stirred." Of course, he (and Mikhail!) knew nothing of Akihito's revelations…the heavyset dark haired Russian (might have been a boxer) gracefully stepped over the two entwined bodies on the mattress, coolly resuming his place next to the wall in spite of everything he had seen. He even grabbed a corner of Akihito's blanket, which he must have thrown over Mikhail and Fei earlier.

They were still lying like that, both Mikhail and Alexej turned into Fei, as if guarding him. Fei himself, still naked beneath the blanket, lay curled against Mikhail, an almost disturbing look of trust on his slightly upturned face.

So this was who had been on Asami's mind all those years…Akihito involuntarily narrowed his eyes. Whatever had happened between them? Asami was never a great talker, not even after the hottest, most depraved scenes - Akihito shivered, fighting down his morning bone - but something about this beautiful young mafia leader was still eating at his hero…a mangled love affair? Fei's behaviour in the pub would certainly suggest that. But Asami was not sentimental, or was he? Akihito couldn't tell if (beside the bona fide political issues) it was mainly jealousy bothering him so about Liu Fei Long. That was what Pjotr, the cheeky youngest of the Russian trio, had insinuated…and Pjotr had certainly been on to him in that other assumption….was he that obvious…? heat flooded Akihito. Nobody must know of this - it would make him completely non-credible in the circles he moved in.

Sunken in his reveries, he startled up to see wide dark eyes watching him.

He fell into that gaze. He had quite forgotten what a presence the Chinese had, having witnessed him mostly agitated, in pain, drugged, during psychotic flashbacks, wild animal sex or asleep up till now.

"Where am I?" he also hadn't often heard him use an ordinary voice - first teasing the Russian, then attacking Asami…then moaning. The little child voice that had uttered such horrifying things…the confused breathless Japanese when he had called Akihito his long lost brother…and later, moans and gasps again, of another kind.

His baritone was a little higher, and far softer, smoother than that of Asami, but sexy too, in another way. Akihito pulled his sweatshirt over his lap.

"You're awake?"

Fei Long nodded, sitting up, beginning to look about himself. Colour flooded his face, too, when his gaze fell over the sleeping blonde Russian.

"Where are my clothes?" now he averted his eyes, slinging his sculpted arms around his knees, noticing the iv still installed in his right wrist. When he looked up again Akihito couldn't help feeling exactly what he had cautioned the others not to do. He indicated the small, neat heap of mostly ruined garments. "Your jacket and your boots are ok…"

"Tao's picture?" at first, Akihito did not know what he meant.

"Oh, the young child? Pjotr saved it for you…"

Now Fei's gaze fell on the other of his classmates, from Pjotr to Takato to Alexej…and again, on Mikhail, who was beginning to turn restlessly, looking troubled in his sleep.

"What happened…?" he whispered, barely audible.

"You don't remember anything?"

Fei lowered his head, curling up in a ball, his long hair falling about his body, almost covering his nakedness.

In this moment even the seasoned young investigative photographer found it extremely difficult to believe what he knew without a doubt, that this was a powerful and feared Mafia leader.

"Someone drugged you..."

But Fei was already recovering himself, looking up with determination.

"Can you give me something to wear? I'll make up for all expenses…"

I'm sure you will, thought Akihito, but aloud he said: "We dressed you in Mikhail's" - Fei reddened slightly - "jumper, he is about your size."

None of them made any comment as to why Fei wasn't wearing the garment any more. "You could have something of mine, but I'm smaller…"

Fei hesitated only the shortest of moments. Then he grabbed the pullover and pulled it over his head. He raised tantalizingly arched dark eyebrows.

"And Alexej here," the burly Russian had just turned over with a snore, "he lent you his trousers." Akihito stood up, discreetly turning away, beginning to rummage in his graffiti covered wardrobe. When he turned around, the Chinese was standing in front of the mattress, towering over him quite a bit, holding up the wide pants with one hand. "Here, I thought you might need that", he handed over a braided string belt in red, yellow and green.

When Fei took the belt, their hands met briefly. Akihito's pupils contracted.

"Oh, Rasta colours", Fei smiled. "I love reggae…"

Akihito looked up, astonished. "Want the matching cap?" he teased, surprising himself. "You wore it yesterday…"

Fei was looking at him with a strange expression.

"Did I wrong you in any way?" he asked, in Japanese. "I can't remember ever having met you, but if there is something I can put right, please tell me."

- to be continued -


	14. Chapter 14

"Ouch! Snap out of it! Why are you hitting me?"

"What?"

Mikhail sat up, confused. Alexej was holding on to his arms. Reflexively, Mikhail struggled, but didn't have a chance against the once member of the Russian Olympic wrestling team.

"Come on, Misha. Get a grip on yourself. Wake up."

Mikhail looked around himself, much as Fei before him had done.

He was in a strange cluttered apartment, political posters, mainly on human rights, shouting from the walls. On one of the scattered floor cushions his classmate Takato was stretching, and against the dusty, sunlit window he recognized the silhouette of Pjotr, gazing intently down into the street. The space beside him on the rumpled bed was empty.

"No…", Mikhail buried his face in his hands.

Pjotr turned around.

"Relax, Misha. They're down there."

On the stairs of the arched, set back doorway of the old building they could make out a mop of shaggy bleached hair from above. Akihito was pointing out something to the person beside him who was wearing a cap in Rasta colours, blazing in the morning sun.

Mikhail jerked back as if scorched, sinking down against the wall, turning deeply red.

His friends were watching him cautiously.

Mikhail raised his face, extremely angry all of a sudden.

"You…", he choked out, breathing hard, "you saw everything!"

"Misha…Misha, we really had no choice…you were awfully loud…_everybody_ woke up…"

Mikhail buried his face in his hands again, emitting curious sounds.

Takato was awake now too, watching him warily from the floor, wondering if he should better use the diazepam on him.

"Misha…", for once, easygoing Alexej seemed at a loss, not knowing how to proceed.

Pjotr detached himself from the window and went down on his knees in front of his friend.

"Misha! Misha?" he shook him by the shoulders, nervously glancing to the door. "Misha! I think they're coming…"

Mikhail didn't react.

"Misha, think of Fei! We don't know what he remembers, but…he wanted to leave immediately this morning…Akihito of all people convinced him that this would be a stupid idea, that he might run right into whoever had laid out their nets for him. I think that galled him down to his core, I think he just hates seeing himself as prey…however…", Pjotr anxiously scanned Mikhail's face. "If you act like that…you want him to think he's offended you?"

Mikhail slowly lifted his face. Pjotr's heart contracted at his despairing look. Water was running somewhere, perhaps Akihito was showing Fei the bathroom.

"What went wrong?"

Pjotr gave a start.

Mikhail was fixing him in a hard, level stare now.

"You heard me right. Come on. You saw everything...didn't you? What did I do wrong…", he lowered his gaze, colour flooding his face again, "…and I don't mean the first part…"

They knew what he meant.

"Well….", Pjotr was not usually someone to falter.

"At first, I'd say, nothing…", Alexej offered, "ok, you were a bit impulsive, and fast, but he seemed to like it…and you…all right, was gagging for more, I'd say…"

Mikhail made a strange, strangled noise. The bathroom sounds were winding down, and Pjotr hurriedly took over.

"Then …I think you shouldn't have told him to strip…remember what we saw….?" Mikhail's expression dulled. He looked hopeless, numb. "…if he's really been abused at some point in his life, surely he knows that command…"

"…that's what I was thinking too", Takato agreed, subdued, "that's what brought on the flashback…and then, when he got tangled into your pullover, and with Alexej's trousers around his feet, it must have felt like being tied down…"

It was very still. What was keeping Akihito and Fei?

Takato paused, wandering if it was such a good idea to tell Mikhail what had suddenly also occurred to him. That these might not have been the only triggers.

That perhaps Fei was in love with Misha too, and that perhaps this was too strong an emotion for him to handle sanely.

- to be continued -


	15. Chapter 15

Fei was in the tiny bathroom, painted in Alice in Wonderland motives, gulping down a mouthful of tepid water at the small chipped basin, splashing his face, fighting against not so much darkness, more a sense of his world shredding itself into pixels, like a television screen with faulty digital reception.

In waves fragments of the last day came washing over him, alternately making him go hot, or cold.

Had he really lain on the floor of that pub, naked? Where was Yoh? He remembered a surge of deepest abandon, and betrayal…and having been held and caressed…and fondled…by everyone around him, and that he had let that happen…

…and he remembered the far deeper, far more frightening sense that had beset him for some time now, building up, to finally culminate this night…the sense of someone rushing his fortress.

He never let anyone near him…Tao was a child, and their relationship, although very warm, followed set patterns, reassuring to both of them. Yoh was a professional, with a professional role in his life. Although there _had_ been flashes of…but he had always respected his limits, never made him feel insecure. Fei didn't realize he was gasping aloud, the fleeting vision of that other professional erupting like a fiery volcano, taking his breath away ….

All sex he had sought since then had been with handpicked, anonymous, changing partners who knew his power and would never dare to make any unforeseen move.

The Russian. Fei scanned himself, through the looking glass. The long black hair, the oval face, the narrow eyes, the annoyingly feminine, full mouth (he reflexively pinched together his lips)…what did he see in him?

The sex with him he could recall in sharpest detail, or perhaps sharp wasn't the right word, for he had felt as if expanding until he was one with the whole universe…possibly, in a strictly technical sense, it hadn't met up with guidance books standards…he smiled dreamily at himself, chuckling a bit…wondering at his reflection. Was this him? He didn't know this relaxed, glowing person…

…this was another person altogether, the one mirrored in those wide, adoring eyes, the colour of the sky of his few hazy, happy childhood memories…yes there were those too…he suddenly startled. As if clouds were passing over his reflection.

He looked like a whore.

But that eerie sense of coming home in…Misha's … arms…(his heart beat faster as he tasted the endearment form his Russian friends used the first time in his mind, complete with Russian intonation, Miiishaa, Miiishaa…)

He supposed it was a good thing he had seen him in the public bath. He knew how it sliced at your heart to have someone falter over…what remained, reminding everyone, every moment of your life.

The first time he had seen him up close was on the 3m diving board, wondering why Mikhail, who was so disturbingly tuned in to his presence, had not noticed him, a mere three feet away. But the Russian had been concentrating, tensing every line of his beautiful, masculine body, before diving into the sparkling aquamarine in a taut, perfect arch.

…his fingers had traced what they already knew by heart…and Mikhail had _felt_ that, he could sense it, as they melted into each other, the Russian adorably yelping like a little puppy…

…. but he couldn't remember anything after that.

"Fei Long - are you ok?"

Akihito. Who knew who he was, and not only that. He knew something else, something so…

He doubled over.

Coming to, he felt Akihito's hands on his body. Everyone was always touching him, even people who didn't like him…especially they…he didn't know he was contorting his face, his whole body, uttering gasping little sounds…

Firm hands pushed him down on the toilet seat. He knew he should fight back…but then his father would die…as from far away he saw a shaggy haired blonde kid sink to his knees in front of him and wait, just wait, looking at him from time to time, but not staring at him…just being there.

He started feeling his body again, hurting all over. Had they…?

But the feeling passed, all was well, he was among friends…even…the pullover he was wearing had such a…wonderful…smell…like the home he had really never had…he jerked his eyes open.

Akihito was sitting on the rim of the bathtub now, reading the morning paper, acknowledging him out of the corner of his eyes, but not making him feel he had to say anything.

Suddenly Fei felt light.

"Akihito?"

Akihito looked up. He couldn't help smiling at the boyish (or was it girlish?) excitement on the feared Mafia leader's…well, yes…beautiful face.

"Akihito, is there still anything in my jacket pockets? Besides Tao's picture, I mean…"

Akihito didn't tell him that they hadn't had to search his things because they already knew about him, because Asami had instructed him (the floor swayed a little…him, taking instructions! they'd see about that, yet…) because Asami had given him minute instructions as how to proceed.

"I think so, yes. I don't think anyone tampered with your jacket."

"Could I," god, but he did look irresistible when cocking his head a little like that, "do you think I could buy you all breakfast? I know the greatest café nearby…"

- to be continued -


	16. Chapter 16

The door flew open, Akihito burst in, looking strained.

"Your classmate hat some kind of fit", he told them, "he's snapped out of it, sort of, but…", he paused, taking in the scene - Pjotr on his knees in front of Mikhail, Takato in 'physician's mode', even Alexej uncharacteristically tense - "right now, he's still acting… kind of…young."

He took a breath.

"You, Tak", he shoved his friend, "stop doing that 'oh, you poor patient' thing, you've still got a lot to learn, you ass," Takato flushed, " and you", now where had he seen the burly, dark haired Russian before? "you, _could_ you cut that 'oh, you're so cute, so sexy' crap…", Alexej narrowed his eyes, "goes for _you_ too", at Pjotr, " 'you smell so good', huh?"

He exhaled, hassled.

"I _know_ he invites it…but for god's sake…!"

Nervously, he threw a glance over his shoulder.

"He belongs in hospital, but…", to Mikhail, who was looking up with a lost, longing expression, "you know he can't go there."

Even to him Asami hadn't explained exactly why not. A pity he couldn't question the blonde Russian about his uncle right away…Mikhail too was rumoured to have Mafia connections, coming from one of those old, obscenely rich Russian families whose political clout pervaded all social spheres and outlived all regimes.

"Hello."

Fei was standing in the doorframe, much as they knew him, his hair bound back in a pony tail, his face open, if a little shy, his posture diffident.

"I'm very sorry to have caused you all such trouble…", he seemed unable to continue.

Akihito turned toward him. They looked strange next to each other, the Chinese taller, more athletic, more elegant even in his thrown together clothes, the trousers hanging a little low on his hips, revealing a peek of that tantalizing line formed by the rectus muscle, sloping inwards, down into the groin. On another person there might even have been a glimpse of pubic hair…

He was also looking kind of fragile beside the self assured, down to earth counter culture youth (how old was Akihito? Pjotr made a mental note to ask Takato).

"Have a seat." Akihito spoke in a firm, but friendly voice, indicating the mattress beside Alexej. Alexej made room willingly, giving his classmate a casual nod.

Hesitantly, but with his usual, inherent grace Fei lowered himself onto the mattress, taking care to leave space between himself and the hefty Russian. He was looking so insecure they all caught themselves wanting to pet him again, soothingly, but Alexej merely gave him a friendly shove, the way he was physical with everyone (Pjotr supposed it was a wrestling thing). Fei smiled at him, shyly.

Akihito also went down into a squat, addressing them at eye level.

"I want to tell you your classmate would like to invite you all to breakfast in the Café St. Petersburg…", Akihito announced, "to make amends for the inconvenience he feels he's caused you, and also because he wants to thank you for your support."

He sighed.

"Unfortunately, that's not such a good idea right now."

He had hated to pop Fei's bubble of happy relief.

"Too conspicuous…"

He didn't have to elaborate. So far nothing had followed…but with the emotional upheavals somewhat in check, the memory of their dramatic exit from the pub came back in full force. Someone was out for Liu Fei Long.

"What about you going for some rolls, Tak? In case anyone's watching us…you're often here anyway…and perhaps some cold cuts from the butcher's…or are you all vegetarians? I've got Tofu spread too…"

He turned to Fei, smiling at him reassuringly, as one would speak to the new kid in class. "But thank you so much, it's a really nice idea. Let's just postpone it, ok?"

Half an hour later they were all lounging around Akihito's low couch table, laden with breakfast things, drinking coffee and orange juice out of chipped mugs or recycled paper cups (there hadn't been enough glasses or mugs to go around), contributing to the clutter with crumbs and dirty cutlery, jokingly quarrelling over the chocolate/nut bread spread, jostling each other…

Fei was sitting curled up between Alexej and Akihito. He wasn't saying much, not like they usually knew him, talkative and witty, at times even imposing. He was looking happy, somewhat nervous, but part of things, included. Pjotr realized he had always seemed a little lonely, in spite of Yoh being constantly at his side.

"Would you pass me the cherry jam? My Gran made it. Don't know why she gave it to Aki, had a thing for him since we were kids", Takato was easily saying to Fei, "must be his little boy appeal. A shame I don't have it, and us both exactly the same age, a ripe 24..."

Fei laughed. "If you're nice to me", he returned flippantly, immediately reddening. It wasn't his usual kind of rather too sophisticated humour, and without being aware of it, he buried his nose in the jumper he was wearing…as if to reassure himself…the army red which had looked nice on Mikhail was looking stunning on him…he stole a furtive glance at Mikhail.

Mikhail was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his elbows on his knees, gripping a mug of long cold coffee in his hands. He seemed sunken into himself, rousing himself only when directly addressed, avoiding at all costs to look up in the direction of the mattress. He hadn't eaten a thing, and Pjotr noticed how Fei was becoming apprehensive again.

What an idiot his friend was…the poor Chinese was surely wondering if he didn't like him anymore, if he had disappointed him in some way…

He wanted to shake him, again. He tried engaging him in a conversation about Macau, a topic which had never failed to bring his friend out of himself, since he thought his family had been cheated out of their (questionable) rights to the casino…but for some reason this seemed to tense Misha up even more…of course…! he could have bitten his tongue off, how could he have been so blind, so stupid…how typical of him, to make such an horrendous blunder…

At the mention of the word "Macau" both Fei and Akihito had indeed turned around, the Japanese scanning Fei's face really startled. Hard to keep in mind sometimes, but not only was Fei leader of the most powerful Triad clan, controlling most of the South Chinese Sea from Hong Kong, but Mikhail too was scion of that extremely powerful old Arbatov family clan that also had a hand in the said former colony. Why in the world had that compulsively provocative idiot brought up Macau at a time like this? Had he done it on…purpose…?

Would Mikhail Arbatov and Liu Fei Long get into a fight now?

But Fei did not look business at all. They knew now they had sometimes witnessed him like that, when he had gotten phone calls with a certain signal, making him excuse himself, speaking in clipped Chinese tones, getting completely different features…

Mikhail had sensed Fei was looking at him, and reflexively looked up. Their eyes met. Mikhail instantly blushed deepest red. Fei blushed too, but he also questioningly searched Mikhail's face…and whatever he saw there seemed to completely fluster him…and make him look away again, breathless, looking almost scared…panting a little, he faced Mikhail again, with an expression that could only be called brave.

There was a lull, as the others tensed, fearing another breakdown.

But Fei was speaking to Mikhail, who was boring into him with blazing eyes, and this time it was he who was uttering a few Cantonese words first…and then some halting Russian.

And again, Pjotr couldn't understand the Cantonese…but he knew he would have to translate the Russian later, which had been,

"it has nothing to do with torture"

- to be continued -


	17. Chapter 17

Back Yard

"Put off that vest."

"Get out of those motorcycle trousers. Good. No underwear. I see you followed my instructions."

"Now let me see."

Akihito bent over the garbage can. In the back yard, in the full daylight, any moment someone might come…he could hardly hold himself upright.

"Now spread your legs."

"First, I touch your balls. You - are quiet."

"Ahhh"…

"Quiet, I said! I see I have to teach you some manners….turn over."

"Good boy…but did I tell you to be erect?"

"Haaa, haaa",

"You brought this on to yourself. Now let me see your…nipples."

"Ahh…haa. Stiff. Gooseflesh."

A pinch. "Ahhh!"

"Now look what you've done! Look at this!"

Akihito knew anyway, but he did as bidden. Haloed by the march sun, the tall, neat international capacity for Pedagogy and Genetic Deviations, Professor Ryuichi Asami, towered over him, neatly suited, only his fully erect great cock emerging beneath the smartly tailored suit jacket.

"Prepare yourself."

Panting, Akihito released his left index finger from the hollow formed by his hand, lathering his tight, boyish opening with butter dabbed from the breakfast table. Asami gripped beneath both of his knees and spread him open. The morning sun sparkled in the whitish drop glistening at the tip of Akihito's painfully erect cock.

"Touch yourself."

Akihito knew what Asami wanted, dipping the fingers of his right hand into his half open mouth. He wet his nipples with saliva, fingers circling, gasping aloud…trailing down the shallow trench between his two rectus muscles, over his smooth groin (he had shaved off his scanty bit of pubic hair, knowing Asami preferred it that way), onto his cock, obediently spreading the drop of precum over his glans. His right index finger remaining in contact with little incision on the tip of his cock, the rest of his hand cupped his balls, slowly massaging his own genitals.

"Enter."

He shoved his left finger into his tight, hot opening.

The little old women from next door greeted in passing. She didn't see all that well and god knows what she thought they were doing.

He didn't care anymore, reckless abandon submerging him…feeling wholly at this man's mercy… utterly opened to him…

"Push."

He pushed against the tip of the great cock, relaxing his opening further, and Asami entered him in one forceful stroke, rapidly taking him up to the hilt.

"Look."

Through a billowing, blood red haze he saw his slender bare torso begin to synchronously move with Asami, who was striking up a slow, rocking rhythm.

His nipples were so erect he could have impaled his…oh, shameful word…master. His legs were painfully stretched into a wide spread eagle, allowing Asami maximum access. His cock was straining against his own slippery, wet hands in restricted agony…he knew was not allowed to come yet...varying lengths of the root of Asami's huge cock slid into vision at his most intimate, most shameful entrance, inexorably pumping in and out, never failing to thrill and horrify him anew.

"Take…that…for…as…king…me…a…bout…Fei…Long…take…it…"

"Ahhh!"

Asami had hit his prostate.

The whole of the red army might be marching in…

Akihito soared into a field of scorching molten lava…he knew he was supposed to keep touching himself…he gasped in agony...

"Hold your naughty little trap", came Asami's silky deep baritone, pausing in his thrusts, lightly slapping Akihito's ass. "Be quiet", he commanded coolly, "do you want your friends to hear you?"

Stifling his pants and gasps with his last effort, Akihito shook his head, eyes glazed, striving to remain conscious…

Asami was watching him, his strange golden eyes half lidded.

"Good boy…", he rammed into the young man again, voraciously drinking in the sight of the writhing, burning youth, "wanton activist…"

- to be continued -


	18. Chapter 18

Akihito was leaning against the peeling paint of the wall in front of the door to his flat. He was a socially self assured person, used to addressing meetings, leading chants on demonstrations with a megaphone, confronting politicians, but also good with children or with emotionally challenged people…there was hardly a situation involving other humans he didn't feel wholly confident about…but right now he couldn't bring himself to face the breakfast party just yet.

He felt stretched, filled beyond breaking point, floating…Asami was never gentle in the beginning, hurting him, forcing him…relentlessly… into ecstasy….he hoped nobody would notice he was still limping. He wanted to throw them all out, lie on his mattress and revel in the afterglow, savouring the feel of Asami's hands on him, the look in his eyes when he penetrated him, no, not brutal, infinitely…caring.

But this time he had uttered these shocking words.

Liu Fei Long.

He wished he never had to see Fei Long again. He had come into his bathroom to find him doubled over, perilously close to crashing into his assorted razors. Grabbing him in alarm he tried to steady him, but Fei was so heavy and so strong, it was difficult to gain leverage when the Chinese reflexively started to struggle. The skimpy red sweatshirt allowed him no hold and he firmly grasped beneath it, feeling the heaving of the other's muscular ribcage, straining to help him… knowing at the same time that this was no good way. The Chinese was writhing in front of him, his face so contorted it hardly looked human, but somehow this made him all the more lovely…Akihito tried to stop the reaction blazing up in him, shocked…the stupid XXL-pants of that burly Russian - and with a jolt he suddenly realized where he had seen him before, at the ….. convention, assistant to that chilling grey blonde Eastern European - the trousers were almost sliding off the Chinese' slender, writhing hips, exposing the base of his cock. A gasp escaped Akihito as blood shot into his loins.

Free that beautiful Chinese cock…do something to it…stroke it…lick it. When he did it with Asami he felt the wanton pet, but now…suck it into his mouth, pretend to bite...red hot lust overwhelmed him..._he_ wanted to be the one to make that beautiful face contort in agony…gloat over him…make Fei react to every stimulus he forced on him...

Shocked, he fought to get a hold on himself, break this power trip of pure lust…shitshitshit… he was no better than those Russians ... or Takato riding high on concern…

…but he _should_ know better. He took deep calming breaths, pushing the moaning, gasping Chinese onto the toilet seat, jerking his hands away from him, putting distance between them, sinking onto his knees in front of him.

He felt desperately sorry.

He, of all people, should have been aware that people like Fei, people with a past like that, conditioned like him, awoke that kind of response in others...he should have been warned, armed against him, able to distance himself from those forbidden emotions…

…oh, Asami…

- to be continued -


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter

…oh, Asami!

He watched the Chinese covertly, using the "corner-of-the-eye" - technique they had practised in that psychology training camp, designed to help dealing with torture victims, who might panic when looked at directly.

Adjusting himself to Fei, timing his breathing to the Chinese' frequency, and also to elements of his posture, taking care not to rise above him, to exhibit no tension in his body lines, casual was the key word here…he waited. The Chinese' staring eyes blinked a few times. After ceasing to writhe he cowered, frozen, wide-eyed, not uttering a sound. When he started moving again, stretching tentatively, his face was very young, as it had been when he had spoken to Akihito in Japanese. He appeared to be in pain, whimpering a little. He did not try to curl in on himself this time, as if knowing in his bones that this would not help him, or was not possible.

Akihito knew he was in some danger here. How violent beautiful, girly Fei could become, at moment's notice, he had proven in the pub, and what he had heard about Liu Fei Long the Mafia leader, didn't exactly reassure him, either…

Excitement flooded him. This was a power trip of another kind, and he felt proud and thrilled, successfully charming a gorgeous wild beast, desperately alluring, but extremely dangerous in it's agony and fear …

And his magic was working. Fei was responding, was soothing, his features smoothing out, his body relaxing…

Aki had casually taken up the morning paper his neighbour, an engineering student sharing the bathroom with him, must have left. He positioned himself on the rim of the bathtub, using the headlines to divert himself, to remain calm himself. That was essential. Not really taking in what he was reading he saw a picture of the mass collision on the highway…all those scrunched up cars, thank goodness no pictures of the victims…hadn't that paramedic, that Kirishima, said he was on his own because of that? Well, he had certainly seemed more competent than some young doctors he knew…he browsed the paper, all the while paying attention to Fei, who had quieted, his face half buried in the red jumper. Casually, Akihito nodded at him, resuming to skim through the local part of the paper…aha, another one of those big, prestigious social science congresses, attracting international capacities of all kinds…sure! Asami was going to lecture there too. Let's see, surely there was something not quite aboveboard to be dug out about that congress, some illegal funding, or a personal scandal involving one of the stars…his reporter instincts kicked in automatically.

"Akihito?"

Oh, for a moment he had even forgotten Fei!

He turned his head.

The Mafia leader was still looking very young, but no longer like a small child. He raised a hopeful teenager's face, that of an exquisite, but rather shy young girl, to Akihito, who had straightened up on his perch, relieved he didn't have to cower any longer, now that the Chinese was not feeling threatened anymore.

The Triad Boss had uttered his unexpected, touching wish. As if he were a normal person, albeit a very young one. Akihito couldn't take his eyes off him. Yes, when stripped from body guards, weapons, cringing servants, representative mansions, bullet proof cars with chauffeurs and other props, the mighty and the famous of this world could be like that. Shit. Once again, he was being drawn into a power trip.

This time, it was a social thing. Whatever would be their later relationship - sighing, he realized there was no going back on that anymore - for the moment at least, Fei was deferring to him.

Uncanny, really, how these psychos could make a bee line for your innermost, supposedly deeply hidden most shameful weak spots….

It was impossible not to smile warmly and comfortingly at this person. He continued projecting calm and comfort, taking care not to touch, even though the urge was there again.

"Come after me, ok? Here, you can use that hairbrush, and here's some ribbon for your hair."

He was still adhering to these principles when exiting the bathroom, carefully avoiding any sudden, aggressive motions.

Hurrying back to his apartment, though, where he had to wake up the rest of them now, feeling as if about to burst from the pressure, he had known he would act out his stress on the first person to cross his path.

But not on this one, not today.

He had paused for a short moment before re-entering his apartment, pushing back a disconcerting thought, again.

Was something like this what had happened with Asami, all those years ago?

- to be continued -


	20. Chapter 20

For the second time this morning, Akihito pushed open the door to his apartment. The first time he had been shaking after that encounter with Fei in the bathroom. This time he was still shivering from Asami's scent…

There was no talking and laughing anymore. The athletic figure of Mikhail was leaning against the window sill, dressed in his pro-gay & anti-fascist t-shirt and a matching pair of pink hammer-and-sickle briefs. He was quiet and intense, staring down into the street. Takato was gathering up the breakfast things. The other Russians were gone.

Akihito's head whipped around. His bed was dishevelled, but empty. Fei was gone too.

"Bad form?" Takato asked him in a low voice, "you're all red in the face from those few stairs…"

Once again it flitted through his head that his friend could be really blind, and what the hell he was doing in a profession that had so much to do with people.

Mikhail turned round, alert in a way Akihito hadn't experienced him yet. Somehow he didn't look at all ridiculous, although the front of his briefs was a little stiff from last night's … activities.

"Been conspiring with that shady professor of your's?" he addressed Akihito dangerously. Nothing about him suggested the unintentionally comic drunk of yesterday evening.

Akihito felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. He narrowed his eyes.

"You're just the right one to talk."

The Russian fixed him in an intense laser beam of light blue. Now where had he seen _that_? That really scary gaze…

"You won't get him. Not over my dead body."

…but directed toward something completely different, something deeply disturbing…

"I know that man is after him", Mikhail was proclaiming icily, "he can pretend to care all he likes … I will kill him if need be …"

….fanatic ice blue eyes in a hard blazing face, grey blonde hair that might well have been wavy and full in his youth …

"and I know you're his accomplice. I've seen you" - Akihito jerked, he couldn't help himself - "and I've seen how you look at … you hate him…"

The Russian closed in on him. He was really powerful … Akihito wondered if that was Fei he was smelling on him … Takato wouldn't be strong enough to help him …

… and now he knew! the congress in St. Petersburg … Mikhail looked like the man he had seen Alexej with! That terrible, scary Eastern European with the most horrifying lecture of all ... Alexej at his elbow, supplying the stats to bolster a thesis that led into the darkest ages … he himself thinking he should be targeting this criminal and not the relatively harmless, pompous Italian he was assigned to …

"Mikhail", he gasped, "Mikhail, stop! I have to ask you something…"

A terrible sense of urgency overcame him. In the paper, he hadn't taken any notice of it at the time … the picture of the group gathered for the congress tonight…

Summoning all his strength he pushed the Russian away.

"Tak! The paper I brought earlier. Have you done something with it?"

"Sure, yeah", Takato responded, bewildered, "put it in the paper recycling bin, of course…"

Akihito was already rummaging wildly, digging like a dog, sending papers and wrappings flying.

"Aaaah…"

He tore open the paper. Yes, the group photo. There! His heart skipped a beat when he recognized Asami. He couldn't help straying to the caption below … Prof. Ryuichi Asami from the University of Tokyo … oh he was so handsome … but he was looking for someone else! And yes. There in the last row … Mikhail was staring at him intently … yes, the same intensity, the same fanatic look, it had to be -

"Who's that?"

The Russian's face closed like a trap. He grabbed the paper and seemed to be reading the caption below the picture.

"Why do you want to know?" His expression was dark and deadly.

"Mikhail, I saw that man on a congress last year. And if he is who I fear he might be…"

"This is my uncle." Mikhail said in a steely voice. "Professor Yuri Arbatov, MD, Psychiatry of Genetic Deviation."

"Mikhail!" Akihito's voice cracked. "Please tell me Fei hasn't gone with Alexej!"

Whatever the Russian had expected, it wasn't this. He looked up sharply.

Akihito's gaze wandered from him to Takato.

"He has, hasn't he?"

Takato nodded.

"We thought it the best idea … Alexej had to put on his own pants, nobody else's would have fit …. Misha gave Fei his, they have about the same size ... and Pjotr's just gone to their flat for something of Misha's. Whatever is the matter, Aki?"

"That congress in St. Petersburg … it was really, really nasty. The front was humanity, what makes up human life, ethics, morality, genetics …. but what it really was about, was ferreting out unfit life forms."

"That's nothing new to me", Mikhail muttered darkly, "believe me, I've got reason to know", he shrugged involuntarily, and the two Japanese wondered if his back still hurt, "my uncle is … but what has it got to do with … Fei?"

He faltered at uttering this name, colouring, averting his eyes. Akihito felt a rush of sympathy. The same intensity … the uncle directing it towards a horrifying cause, the nephew … to love.

"Mikhail … your uncle had an assistant."

Both the Russian and Takato froze, as if already guessing what was coming.

"This morning, I remembered … but I didn't know it was with your uncle I had seen him with. "

Mikhail's eyes grew wide in shock and horror.

"Alexej."

- to be continued -


	21. Chapter 21

It was amazing, thought Akihito, what could flash through your mind in just a second. The breakfast scene was unravelling before his inner eye…

… Fei was in the midst of his halting Russian when Akihito received the text message he had been aching for, and the rest had been a delicious, burning blur, overlaid by moments of supernaturally heightened awareness.

For instance Mikhail openly gazing at the Chinese and Fei not being able to return that gaze for long … looking anywhere, letting Alexej draw him into conversation, giving off heat like the surface of the sun, magnetic storms interchanging with darkly fluctuating patches of sudden insecurity … a spot of pink on both his high cheekbones, lips soft and slightly pursed, eyes wide and glowing, so dazzlingly pretty you could hardly stand to look at him.

Alexej. He could recall the following exchange between the two unlikely classmates in sharpest detail…

He had started it himself, he had promised it to Asami.

"Fei?"

The Chinese looked up at him, levelly. It was fun the way this powerful person took him so seriously…

"You're in danger. You have to go underground for some days."

"I can defend myself!" Fei immediately protested, shaking back his shiny black ponytail, risking a tiny glance at Mikhail, "I'm no girl!"

This was so silly, so obviously wanting to impress the blonde Russian, so delirious, carefree spirit-of-the-moment that it was difficult to suppress a laugh.

"Girls, nowadays, can very well defend themselves too, you … chauvinist!"

"Ok ok, Mr. P.C.," Fei returned playfully, forgetting his shyness, "please don't report me to the Women's Rights Federation … they'd … castrate … me…?"

…they'd drool all over you... but Aki hadn't said that out loud.

And then Alexej had spoken up from Fei's other side.

"You know where I've seen you before? You were with the Olympic men's Taekwondo team … I remember thinking Hong Kong had the prettiest Chinese girl that year…"

Fei bristled.

"Had it been the other way round, had you looked like a boy and wanted to compete with the women", Alexej continued, "you'd have been forced to do a gene test…"

Fei glowered at him.

"And what about you - did you have to do a gene test to prove you're human, and not some mollusc life form resulting from a nuclear reactor catastrophe?"

Alexej laughed.

"Touché, sweetheart - oops" - he apprehensively glanced at Akihito, remembering his lecture, maybe.

"You were really good - for a man at least…", he added jokingly, "only… you're used to other rules, aren't you? You would have won a medal, otherwise…those scoring judges were blind…"

"You were good, too", Fei smiled back, "I remember you too. You almost did win a medal, didn't you, bronze? In the 84 to 96kg free style?"

"Yes … if it hadn't been for that damn fat German, that Schmidt-von-Reichewitz…", the burly Russian grumbled, "that arrogant prick of an inbred aristo, currying favour with the chicks by taking on his wife's name 'Schmidt'… that goodie-goodie _cheated_, I just know it, he used some kind of nano particle body oil, the way he slithered out of my grip…that was ….inhuman…like an over lubricated dildo…"

"Oh no…not that rant again, Aljosha…!"

"Ok ok…keep your cool, Petja", Alexej muttered, "we're among men. Or I think so…?"

"At leg's length, a wrestler wouldn't stand a chance against an expert Kung Fu fighter", Pjotr hurriedly changed the topic, not wanting Fei to be reminded of lying completely exposed in front of them all, "what do you think?"

"Maybe not…but", Alexej grasped the Chinese, who gasped, "in close body combat you would stand none against me! And not only because you're a wee, mere", taxing Fei, "I'd say… featherweight! …hey!"

Fei had twisted out of his grip in a strange, snaky move.

"Welterweight, I'll have you know!"

"Ah, you just took me by surprise", Alexej lunged again, but Fei neatly rolled out of his way, coming into full body contact with Akihito.

Akihito flinched away in alarm, and Mikhail, too, stormed up, spilling his coffee…but Fei was looking relaxed as they hadn't experienced him yet, springing to his feet, alert, eyes sparkling, body taut…

"None. Of. That." Akihito used his megaphone voice. "Go trash someone else's digs, Mr. Wrestler's here preferably…"

"Sorry." Fei sat back down, no trace of insecurity just then, glancing proudly in the direction of Mikhail. "See?" he winked, blushing at addressing him directly, "other rules…"

And the blonde Russian had looked as if about to jump his love then and there - eyes brimming over with admiration and lust - wanting to test, perhaps, if the agile Martial Arts adept would twist out of _his_ grip too…

….and seconds later Aki had slipped out of his apartment.

Takato was reasoning with the Russian, imploring.

"You can't go out like that … Pjotr has to be back now any moment, you can't do anything like that…"

"Oh he's a traitor too", Mikhail stormed, pacing, tearing at his golden hair.

"Easy there … there's absolutely no evidence of that …"

"He touched his _nipples_!" Mikhail's face had taken on a darkish hue, "I should have killed them _both_!"

Takato rolled his eyes - covertly though, the Russian was sweating out danger and power.

"You know I would even give Alexej some benefit of doubt! He's far too intelligent to fall for … that kind of stuff …"

The Russian wasn't listening.

"Let's phone him…"

"Can't…", Akihito spoke up, "I had Fei turn off his mobile, might be traced…"

Takato tried again.

"Misha, why don't you have some trust in Fei, at least? He seemed quite ok when they left … and we know him a little by now, he's not stupid, he's not weak, he _can_ defend himself … and he's warned now…"

…but not of Alexej, easygoing, friendly, clever, strong Alexej - who surely wouldn't let him twist out of his grip a second time…

"You go for the Physics Institute, you know were it is?", Mikhail breathlessly instructed the two Japanese, the baggiest pair of sweatpants and a roomy wide sweat jacket of Akihito's still tight and short on him, "I'll take on his fraternity housing…"

- to be continued -


	22. Chapter 22

"We'll eventually go to my rooms, I live in quite a neat fraternity house, you can take a shower there," a heavyset Slavonian with curly dark hair and a distinct Russian accent was saying to a slender, athletic Asian whose shiny cloud of dark hair was bound back from an unusually pretty oval face. They were lounging on a threadbare sofa in the worn students' common room of the Physics Institute, cluttered to the ceiling with machinery of all kind but otherwise deserted this early Saturday morning. "Bah, the coffee is something horrible, even worse than at that Japanese Eco's digs", the Russian was muttering, stirring his plastic cup with tepid Nescafe, "what a shame … the Café St. Petersburg would sure have been more to my liking too!" The Asian smiled back, and they resumed discussing mathematics.

"Was that just yesterday we were all getting into an argument about Leonardo da Vinci, about how he probably would have been a computer programmer today, trying to discover the world formula…", Alexej leaned back complacently, watching his guest out of half lidded eyes, "I can't believe I'm sitting here with you, talking about the Nabla Operator!"

"Why not?" Fei threw back his pony-tail, unaware of how cute a picture he made curled up in the corner of the once blue sofa, in the faded red sweatshirt and well fitting, just slightly loose jeans. "Did you think I was stupid?"

Alexej laughed depreciatingly. "You're very welcome to visit my Tuesday course on Theoretical Physics one of these days … you wouldn't believe it!" He shook his head in resignation. "And those are people who want to be Physics teachers, or Physicists … it should be forbidden …"

"Perhaps it's better not to be too clever, as a teacher," Fei smiled, "you can get into your students' mindsets better … I wouldn't know, of course", he added somewhat wistfully, "I've never gone to a real school…"

"No? But you're so well educated …"

"Private tutoring, with my adoptive brother. Our father spared no expenses. I might have wanted to go into mathematics, it's so beautiful, so clear … but now it's too late."

"But why? Come on! We could use people of your calibre …"

Alexej stretched and got up.

"I want to show you something…"

Fei jumped up gracefully, like a cat, and they left the homey Big Children's Technical Playroom, going down the hall deep in conversation, never noticing someone was rattling at one of the high windows of the Common Room.

In a small basement laboratory Alexej motioned Fei to stand beside him, lightly grasping his shoulder.

"Is it .. a Cloud Chamber?"

"Yes, a hydrogen bubble chamber."

The dark haired Russian was gazing at his guest with a strange expression.

"I should have guessed you knew that…"

"I've never seen one … only a picture of one in a book."

The Asian leaned over the appliance, which looked like something magical out of a fairy-tale, sparks blinking over a dark, cloudy surface, leaving geometrical traces, fading again …

"It's beautiful", he said softly, "we should come here sometime with the others. It's art …"

"Yes ... nature's art…mostly those are electrically charged particles coming from the sun … but also neutrinos, not charged, very small … going through you and me - can you feel them just now? - passing through the whole of the earth, in fact, … tiny…but we can sometimes see them here, too ..."

Fei looked up. Alexej was staring into the basin dreamily …

"Almost exclusively used for demonstration, nowadays, but I love coming here."

He winked at Fei.

"It's my shamefully hidden romantic side. And I think of it when I'm sitting in the march sun…all those neutrinos going through me…"

They gazed into the cloudy device for a time.

"I wish you were a girl", Alexej spoke up suddenly.

Fei didn't comment this, watching the subatomic particles weave their condensation trails.

After a while he lifted his head, briefly facing his classmate.

"And … Misha …?"

It was the first time he had used the endearment form in front of anybody.

Alexej looked at him attentively.

"You care for him."

He didn't expect an answer.

He leaned over the appliance again, muttering something in Russian.

Fei wondered if he had understood him correctly,

"_Blizok lokotok, da ne ukusish__"_(_"_Your elbow is close, yet you can't bite it")

- to be continued -


	23. Chapter 23

**WARNING DISTURBING** (you can skip - I usually recapitulate when it's not muddled anyway)

* * *

In a nondescript lab overlooking the city, equipped with computers and medical appliances, two men were sitting side by side at a paper laden desk, a medical textbook opened in front of them.

The younger man was showing snapshots on a small digital camera to the older one, who was wearing a starched white lab coat.

"Yes, that is him. Although of course there are quite a few years in between… but I will not forget the face … and not the rest of him."

He screwed up his face.

"I cannot forgive that troublesome man … it is his fault we have lost him back then … and I have heard he played a part again in helping him escape last night."

"You know Asami?"

"Quite well, yes … we met in that group, you know … before our ways … parted. I suppose it was his reason for saving the bastard creature back then." He studied the picture in the medical textbook. "Here he is younger still, perhaps twelve years old… is it not fascinating … I have never seen anything quite like it before … I have heard he has risen high in the Hong Kong Triad, the Baishe … that is amazing. And a further reason to … attend to him."

The older man snapped close the book.

"Ah well. It will not be long now … he will walk right into my hands. I have someone working for me whom my good-for-nothing nephew trusts, installed him in that useless course of their's - who cares for painted pictures or marble statues when they can get the living flesh?"

The younger man surveyed the older respectfully.

"What do you intend to do with him, Professor? Knowing you, you won't be content just to exhibit him …"

"No, indeed." The older man smiled, a truly horrible facial contortion. "I have something very … interesting … planned with him … but do not be in worry, you will partake of everything in enlarged detail. Already I have prepared lecture room 4 with cameras, monitors and all the further appliance that is required. Rachmaninov will perform the, ahem, surgical procedure … it is too long ago I have done this myself. I want to have it done well, or I can not prove my thesis to the world of science."

He rubbed his hands, a frightening gleam of anticipation in his ice blue eyes.

"You, and chosen other guests, will share the honour of witnessing the first … interaction … with the subject in his new state, or as you might better say … in his original state."

He narrowed his eyes.

"I will monitor and record every inch of his body, every electrical current off his skin, every sound out of his mouth, his … face ... everything. He was gone a few years in which he seems to have been used … he is not virgin anymore … but … it cannot be helped."

The middle aged, hard faced man's breathing grew audible.

"No anaesthesia will be possible … or we cannot detect arousal."

"But won't he faint?"

"Oh, not for long … I assure you there are methods …", Arbatov traced a finger over the picture, still somewhat out of breath.

"You shall be mine … and then I will … delete … you … freak. But first", an ugly frown flitted over his sharply etched features, "you will pay … for doing this to me … for turning … me on … and turning me … down."

The guest backed off, a little alarmed at this display of passion.

"Your nephew seems to care for … the subject."

"He can watch. It should cure him of his perversion."

- to be continued -


	24. Chapter 24

At the same time, also high above the city, a dashingly handsome young Japanese man with a smart, gelled haircut was resting his elbows on the windowsill of a wood panelled conference room, gazing out unseeingly over the city, hazily bright in the March sun.

He too was revelling in afterglow, savouring every nuance of desire his young pet had exhibited, letting it override that other desire yesterday night had awoken anew ... along with burning shame and remorse.

He should have turned down the job request! He had seen the pictures, had not yet felt steady.

Then, when the window of the armoured limousine had slid down, and those expressive eyes had looked up at him for the first time, slightly bright with fever… he could still have turned back.

They had argued, the boy-man brave and assertive before him, but already looking at him in a way … he hadn't resisted taunting him … and, when he attacked, subduing him after a short wild struggle. He would never forget the tantalizing look of agony on the androgynous child face when he began gauging the infected hand. He had successfully fought down his excitement when Liu Fei Long had dragged himself up and staggered to the door, barely conscious. It would have been so easy.

That jolt when the young Chinese stormed into the bar, sullen, his face bruised, keeping on his coat. He had known why later when he laid him down on his bed. Someone had half ripped the youth's shirt off, and that was how they spent the night, the young Chinese sprawled on his bed half naked, in drunken sleep, his shiny black hair splayed all over him, enhancing the glimpses of tempting bare skin. It had been extremely difficult to doze off …

Over the following days, even before he taking the knife for him, he couldn't ignore the intense feelings the young Chinese was developing, gazing at him in growing fascination. He reminded him of a young dog in search of his mother. Puppy love. Touching, but rather trying on his resolutions …

And then the fateful night … Fei Long had been so stubborn, so set on running into that trap … first the kiss, born out of desperation, the youth hungrily sucking at him, at the same time protesting and trying to push him off … then feigning resignation, only to turn around to make a break for the door … reflexively he had slammed him down on the bed, holding him down. But how to keep him down? He had followed his instincts, and they had made him grab his crotch. Fei Long had flung back his head with a gasp. What a smooth tan throat in front of his mouth, and what an enticing hard length in his hand, the tip already moist … Fei Long looked up at him cloudily, wonderingly as the heat rose in him and he tore open the last button of the ruined shirt … rosy brown boy buds, erect … oh so smooth oh so young skin over rippling muscles … he was so fresh and beautiful, and innocent, quivering beneath him, twitching into him slightly as he slowly opened the fly of his trousers, cupping the erect, wet young man's cock, then slowly, tantalizingly drawing down the garment, laying bare the most beautiful body he had ever seen. The Chinese youth was gasping, half arching into him, half trying to push him off, as he began stimulating his cock with expert firm strokes. He himself had been burning by then, barely able to keep from slamming into him then and there. And Fei Long had seemed to want it, breathing "is that all?" after he had brought him off expertly, running a dripping wet tongue over those delicious nipples. He was gazing up at him with complete trust, wiggling a little, opening his long lithely muscled legs … he had run a finger along the base of his cock, smooth unblemished skin back then - whatever had happened since? - sinking in a little … he had expected it, it heightened his lust into a white hot blaze …

… Fei Long's breathing quickened, he tried to turn away, resisting, gasping "n-n-noo … A-Asami …that's enough …" and that had been too much, hastily he freed his straining cock and pushed it at that opening, wetting it with spittle … "push against me, open up", he had breathed, gripping the Chinese teenager with all his strength, "give yourself up to me, let me take you"…

It had been an incredible feeling to push himself into that hot, tight, resisting, virgin opening. Fei Long tried to struggle, to push him away, screamed, but there was no stopping now… he was one third in, grabbing the straining youth's shoulders, pushing … and now the young Chinese was doing the work for him, impaling himself further with every struggle … until he was buried up to the hilt, completely surrounded by the tight virginal heat. The boy had quieted in shock, eyes glazed, face terrified. He began to slowly move in him, each answering motion of the delicious body beneath him sending a jolt of ecstasy through his abdomen, into his chest and heart. At first it was dry, but then it had gotten wet and slippery and he wondered hazily if that was blood. "You are so beautiful", he had whispered, and "I'm so sorry", as he gradually accelerated his cautious thrusts, taking the longhaired girlboy … god was he eighteen? perhaps not, he didn't even know, how could he … taking him with him, making him thrum and quiver like an instrument, without any will of his own, completely at his mercy … Fei Long was staring into his eyes now, his mouth opened … he lowered his face and aggressively pushed his tongue in, claiming that orifice too … he had thought it couldn't get any more exciting but now the longhaired dark youth gave up resisting, relaxing his lovely body into the intrusion, even beginning to answer, thrusting and arching against him, rubbing his slender figure, all of that smooth smooth skin, against him as hard as he could, uttering gasping little moans … losing himself into his eyes in complete surrender.

It was to take seven years before he had experienced anything remotely as delicious.

Asami came out of his reverie, noticing his pants had gotten tight. One moment of weakness, of shameful pleasure, seven years of agonized regret. He had done what he could to make amends for the disturbed youth … but Fei Long had obviously taken his absence after the following, catastrophic turn of events as rejection. Had that alone been enough to endanger the little bit of sanity he had preserved throughout his unwanted and abusive youth? What had happened? He should have stayed in contact, spoken to him, tried to explain. He doubted Fei Long would have listened but no matter … after all of this time Asami felt sure it would have been the right thing to do. He had taken the easy way out, sending Yoh.

The Russian was completely justified in mistrusting him. A burning desire arose in him … to make it up to Fei Long, to make it possible that he find some happiness.

"Oh Akihito", he whispered under his breath, "if you knew how desperately I need you … it wouldn't be good for the two of us at all…"

- to be continued -


	25. Chapter 25

Barely quarter of an hour later the small conference room seemed almost crowded.

"But, Ryuichi, isn't that a bit risky? And it's not only, um, Mr. Liu you're putting at risk, but Mr. Takaba too!"

"You don't know Arbatov, and you have no idea what he stands for."

Asami was now leaning against a table in the middle of the room, an assembly of perhaps fifteen people in a half circle around him, some seated, some perching on tables, some standing at notice. The atmosphere was tense and strained.

"I know him well", his gaze went inwards, darkly, "too well…it's a privilege I would give anything to have forgone …"

Nobody interrupted him.

"In the course of that year, at that group you all know of, I grew more and more certain he never intended to … change. He was quite low profile then, deceptively so. I think now he was gathering data and … networking."

And that was how Arbatov must have had gotten that … dreadful … video. Asami had briefly thought about showing it, to underscore the urgency, but no. He wondered just why it was he could hardly bear even thinking about it, he had seen far worse in the course of his professional life, and Fei Long had not really been hurt. It was obviously intended as kind of a demonstration-and-sales clip, and damaging their ware wouldn't have made any sense to the producers.

Fei Long, at the time, had probably not known that, though, not known if he was meant to survive … he could understand so well that the Chinese had become a champion Kung Fu fighter, risen to the top of a Mafia Syndicate … doing anything, just anything … to never be victim again.

He had never showed it to Yoh.

The clip hadn't been made by Arbatov or his people, he felt sure of it … the people involved had spoken English, one of them with a Chinese accent. But he felt certain it had been made _for_ him … because it was widely known in the scene what Arbatov liked. He shuddered at connecting the word 'like' to that gruesome, inhuman man.

And the person shown in the video was the very incarnation of all of Arbatov's darkest desires.

"Unfortunately we didn't know until too late Arbatov intended to lecture at the St. Petersburg Congress - it's entirely by chance Ak…, Mr. Takaba, was there and took some coverage."

He looked around at each of them in turn.

"We're risking both Liu and Takaba, and innumerable other innocent human beings, in a far more unforgivable manner if we pass up this unique chance, tonight."

Liu Fei Long was not innocent, not in any sense of the word, but nobody protested.

"Declaring others less than human by using questionable biological criteria, justifying the most horrifying cruelty, isn't new … you merely have to look at how women were often treated in patriarchal cultures …"

He dragged at his cigarette.

„Was an inferiority complex because of not being able to bear children underlying cause? This time, we believe, the fuelling inferiority complex has something to do with sexual frustration. Studying known followers … the shared characteristic seems to be the lack of sexual activity. In a high percentage the followers are thought to be impotent, or not able to bring their true inclinations into alignment with their beliefs.

Victims are usually sexually alluring … and all have some kind of stigma. Sometimes something as random as a third nipple … and sometimes a genetic aberration, which opens an even wider field, for though the human genome is deciphered, who determines what is normal?"

He did not have to raise his voice, nobody dared to urge him to come to the point.

„As ludicrous their credo may appear - humans declared to have a birthright to sexual gratification - non humans, as determined by alibi reasoning, may be used in any way to achieve that means - what it boils down to is a moral justification of sexual subjugation, rape and even - sex murder."

Again he did not have to raise his voice.

„Since it is not a national thing, devotees can be found throughout the world. They do tend to favour certain environments, though - hospitals, for instance, are thought to be highly infiltrated."

… and that was where those 'recruiters' of Arbatov's had first got hold of Fei Long! of course! it had to be! After being almost shot to death by his biological father … and he, Ryuichi, hadn't been there any more, and Yoh … not yet.

"The scientific world in general - so many antisocial, emotionally instable people, in a brutal, dog eat dog competition - naturally that makes a fertile breeding ground for inhuman concepts - think of the nuclear bomb …"

Asami exhaled, blowing smoke in direction of the window.

"Christianity, unfortunately, also seems to attract these … psychopaths, for want of a better label. Worshipping beneath a naked god suffering death by torture? Not really wholesome."

He looked round, briefly locking gazes with each of them.

"Even amongst us there might be someone … afflicted."

Through the tilted window sounds of a busy city weekend were wafting, a crash and angry cries rising over the general hub hub.

He didn't know of any other one.

He ground out his cigarette on the tabletop and threw the butt out of the window. (Good thing Akihito couldn't see him, this would have sparked off a quarrel).

"No, I don't really believe it, knowing all of you personally. But I wanted you to get some idea of the dimensions of … diffuse … perversion we are up against."

His face went still, he fixated the ground.

"We need facts. Hard evidence. There is no other way."

His features were like an idealized mask now, thrown into hard relief by the slanting morning sunlight.

"Mr. Takaba has volunteered."

There was a breathless silence. Everyone assembled knew of his … affiliation with the young activist photographer, quite a star in his scene, incredible really when he barely looked of age.

A tough, grizzled man cleared his throat.

"And Mr. Liu?"

Asami's expression didn't change. What an exceedingly handsome person he was, his security chief thought, with some regret, as this had been the main source of security breaches in their long time of collaboration.

"Mr. Liu has been instructed this morning, Suoh."

Loud murmuring, even outcries, broke loose.

A muscular Japanese with a sombre face, bringing to mind a practising monk, stormed up out of his seat.

"We should never have let him go with those students, Asami-Sama! I told you I didn't like the look of one of them!"

"Arbatov's nephew?", Suoh asked. "You think he'll turn Liu over to his uncle, Yoh?"

Yoh's colour heightened. If they hadn't known him for so long, known that was absolutely impossible, they might have thought he … but he controlled himself.

"I don't like Mikhail Arbatov, not at all", he ground out tighly, "but no, Suoh, I'm certain he won't. No, it's more one of his friends, the Olympic wrestler Alexej Taramasov, I'm in doubt about … can we have a look at that surveillance photograph again?"

There was some fiddling with a notebook, then a grainy image was projected at the whitewashed wall behind Asami's back.

"See there, beside Professor Arbatov? This photo was taken at the St. Petersburg congress last November, by Mr. Takaba. As Asami-Sama already informed you, at the time Arbatov wasn't our main target, alas, but studying the picture this morning … ", he let a slightly unsteady red laser dot wander over the image, coming to a shuddering stop.

"Professor Arbatov … and that could be Taramasov."

Asami turned around, studying the photograph, an inscrutable expression on his face. When he said Aki had volunteered, he hadn't told the whole truth. Akihito, for all his exhaustive and in depth political knowledge, for all his expertise in critical, escalating situations, caught between the powers that be … had never yet, to his knowledge, experienced being targeted personally.

Except, of course, by him.

Unease erupted in his gut, rising up in clammy tentacles - yes … the young man beside Arbatov could well be that infuriatingly glib Slavonian scientist friend of young Arbatov's … he too seemingly in thrall with their enigmatic Chinese ‚classmate', still long haired - he simply couldn't understand that! why in all the world would Fei Long go on underscoring his androgynity … in his stead he would have shaved his head! … or at least sported a shaggy haircut like his Aki … his heart contracted in fear ….

They must all still be at Akihito's now, surely had been when Akihito and he … they should never have done it! It was seeing Fei Long again, after all those years, it had kicked off something in him, the pressure had been so great, had threatened to … love for Aki washed over him in a tidal wave.

The others were crowding in front of the photograph, gesticulating and arguing. Normally he wouldn't have stood for such a display of disorder, but now he was glad he could slip out unheeded.

On the third ring he heard Akihito's voice. The relief was enormous - whatever Taramasov's design, Aki was safe! and he had some difficulty at first to understand what his pet was telling him.

When he re-entered the conference room the assembly fell silent at once.

"What is it? Ryuichi, what is the matter?"

Asami's features appeared to be carved in stone.

"Liu … is missing."

He was looking only at Yoh in this moment, his face carefully devoid of any expression.

It was Suoh who spoke.

"But isn't there a tracer on Liu … wasn't Takaba supposed to put one on him?"

"They apparently were already gone when Takaba wanted to do so …"

There was a commotion, as Yoh moved against Asami. He stood in front of him, tense and furious, nearly choking on his breath, unable to speak.

It was Suoh who asked, "they?"

"Taramasov and Liu …"

It sounded so impersonal, 'Liu', not like someone who was on his mind and conscience, someone who's body he had intimately known, who's dearest wish, however uncalled for, he had simply ignored, whom he had deflowered and then twice saved, but never spoken to again.

Yoh was at Asami's throat.

"If something happens … ", he grabbed Asami's immaculate shirt front, "if …", he could hardly get a word out, panting and gasping, "Ryuichi, if he comes to harm …"

He seemed unable to continue, completely beside himself. They had never seen him like that. Asami did nothing to defend himself, and nobody even noticed Yoh was calling Asami by his given name, and that it was the first time ever since he had begun working for him, all those years ago.

"Ryuichi … I swear it … you'll never have a moment of joy again …"

- to be continued -


	26. Chapter 26

**TRIGGER - WARNING! IF YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED SEXUAL ABUSE DON'T READ THIS! Extremely explicit, absolutely non-con**

In the meantime, the projection in the background had continued, as nobody had turned off the computer in the general excitement. Several shaky, amateurish sequences showed buildings, lecture rooms, assemblies, statistic charts, etc, and then suddenly a young person of Asian descent with long black hair, strapped down on an examination table.

He was in the process of being disrobed by two masked men. This wasn't so easy because the men obviously didn't want to loosen the victim's restraints. It was such an amateurish bungle, that the time it took gave everyone in the room an opportunity to register the sudden silence, and recognize it's source. One after the other they stopped arguing and honed in on the film sequence, which involved two men with ski masks and surgical gloves, and obviously at least one other one, wielding a camera. At first there was no sound. In grisly silence the men finally tore apart and pulled off the thin cotton pants and shirt the Asian youth was wearing, and he was lying naked now, still fully restrained. The camera travelled along a subtly muscled body, over a still fresh looking, star shaped gun shot wound in the angle of the sternum and the left clavicle, and zoomed in on a beautiful, girlish face, looking very young and … Asami thought that in their short time together Fei Long had shown any number of emotions, his had been such expressively childlike features, rather too open, he knew his young charge (he _had_ been eighteen! it had been March too, going on Eastern …) he knew that Fei Long hadn't liked that at all about himself, had opted so hard for a tough look … in the video he didn't look tough, though, he looked certain he was going to die and that no one at all gave a damn. _Sorry_, he pleaded again, silently, I'm _so_ sorry, I _did_ care, do… but ... you and me … something about you brings out the worst, in _me_ …"

He tuned in to the collective gasp of recognition.

„Young Mr. Liu …"

Asami jerked himself out of his trance and dived to the projector. Enough! That was the least he could do for Fei Long now, preserve a tiny bit of human dignity for him ... but with a deadly expression Yoh fell into his arm, eyes blazing like an avenging angel's, a keening moan of anguish escaping his taut features …

… the film was still silent, so their own, stressful breathing and thudding heartbeat seemed to be thundering in their ears. The lower part of the examination table was being replaced by stirrups by a third masked figure, two of them holding on to one of young Liu's legs with combined force, immediately replacing the straps, then doing the same with the other. The young man was fixated in a maximally spread-eagled position. A close up to his face showed him to be still awake, but tightly gagged with a black rag, fighting for breath.

After a brief glance in direction of the camera, as if to make certain the documentary was on, one of the masked figures began running his gloved hand all over the youth's naked body, testing, claiming. Starting at his bare feet, he travelled upwards over the restrained legs, bypassing the crotch, exploring the slim muscled abdomen, the chest, the neck ... continuing over the face, making sure the gag held fast. The second time round he focussed on the private parts, pinching the nipples, cupping the balls, grasping the cock. There was a close up on the genitals, the beautiful arrow shaped shaft, half erect … as it had been in the pub yesterday … the smooth balls. The camera zoomed in closer. At the base of the cock there was what looked like a vertical dark line. Otherwise the skin glowed smoothly … dusky, wholly intact.

Now a slim beaklike instrument came into view, hovering for a second, before being placed against the darkish line. The gloved hands adjusted the instrument's position a few times, tentatively probing. Then the right spot seemed to be found, and the instrument slid in, cautiously at first, and when there was no resistance, with more force, until it was almost gone, all the way in. The gloved hand carefully compressed the instrument's handles, so the beaks spread a little, widening the opening of the instrument, granting access. This shocked the restrained youth, or hurt; he reared up and looked as if he was trying to scream, which could not be heard, of course. The other masked figure patted him over the nipples, a bit like steadying an animal, a horse, casually running his hand over the shuddering body, taking hold of the twitching cock and beginning to circle his finger around the dry tip. The Asian youth tried to buck away, but couldn't, and the gloved hand absentmindedly stroked and fondled his cock and balls, as if to calm and appease him.

In the meantime the fourth man held a strong light source against the opening of the instrument, shining into the newly created fleshy tunnel.

The youth was struggling against his bonds now as hard as he could, almost rhythmically, almost making the instrument slide out again … and it was … arousing ... what a beautiful body. Not forcefully, just casually, in a matter of fact way, the instrument was pushed back in, the man feeling with his finger first, caressing the fleshy rims of the opening a little, and then the instrument was fixated by spreading it a little further.

Three of them held the young Asian down tightly now, enabling the cameraman to get a steady close up of the view into the tunnel, pinkish walls of flesh quivering and twitching. Then another, longish instrument came into view, beginning to probe, gently, obviously not with the intention of hurting, just demonstrating.

Gasps were heard among the assembled men, who seemed to have been bating their breaths up till now, as those of them with some knowledge of anatomy recognized what they were seeing.

For quite a while there was a close up of a pinkish knob with a central indentation, into which the slim, longish instrument now began to nudge, sinking in little by little. This obviously did hurt, really bad, because now the strong, well muscled youth began writhing against his restraints in such a violent manner, that in spite of their padding he would surely suffer rope burns … a tentative, more forceful push of the probe, gaining a few centimetres …making the youth buck up so abruptly that he managed to dislodge both instruments. They slid out and clattered to the floor. He lay panting, heaving, everything still completely mute.

He wasn't punished for this, and the masked men didn't attempt to reinsert the tools. One possessively laid a hand over the youth's shimmering dark hair. He tried to draw his head away, so the large hand came to lie on his face, the coarse fingers sluggishly spreading some of the slippery wetness of his tears and absentmindedly drawing a few sticky red doodles from a trickle of blood running down the corner of his tightly gagged mouth.

There was a crackle, as if by loose connection, bringing with it a short burst of sound, a strangled sob, followed by a low, impersonalized voice … „shhhh … quiet …", attempting to calm, „if you don't resist it won't hurt so much …", and then the film went silent again … the agonized outcry coming not from the loudspeakers ... but from worYoh ...

The camera was following the other man's hands travel downwards again, over the sculpted, heaving torso, stroking the goose fleshed skin, circling the dark nipples until the tips stood, tracing the artful lines formed by toned muscling, patting the taut slim flanks, making the youth wince and jerk, tracking the inguinal moulding until the close up was again on that mysterious opening between the smooth, trembling legs.

The gloved fingers resumed lightly exploring … and suddenly pushed in.

Again, there was a pause, in which the camera drew back a little, so that the large man's hand came into full view, half sunk in below the erect, quivering cock.

The man gently withdrew his fingers … and pushed them in again.

Now the sound system seemed to have been successfully connected … muffled gasps could be heard - a brief total showed the Asian was writhing as much as his restraints allowed him - then, panning back in to the action between his maximally spread legs, one man rhythmically pushing three of his fingers in and out again, the other man manipulating the fully erect cock, sliding his fist back and forth, flicking a finger over the wet glans, establishing a rhythm which slightly differed from that of the other man … it was the kind of totally random detail shock made you register, shot through Asami's mind, as he tried to fight down his horror … and arousal.

A microphone came briefly into view, probably unintentionally, because it was immediately withdrawn again, but the sounds were really clear now … skin sliding over skin … the heavy breathing of the three masked men … the youth's muffled shrieks, the thudding of his restricted body against the examination table … and now something else, too …. a moist, squishing sound … the coarse fingers relentlessly stabbing in and out, producing this … wet … obscene … the breathlessly watching men would never have admitted this, but it was tantalizing, dissolving … this mushy, _squelching_ sound - you wanted to jump right in and join the action, ram your finger, your tongue, your cock, whatever, in too... the skilled hand was drawn back again to circle the wet rim of sticky flesh, flicking over it a little … making good use of the fluids young Liu's body was producing … and rammed in again with even more force …. picking up speed …

A close up on young Liu's face showed his eyes were glazed, and he was writhing and bucking in time now, submitting to the rhythm forced on him, like a horse reacting to spurs, broken in.

„_What a well behaved ride"_, the impersonalized voice could be heard again, in a loud breathy whisper, _„what a good little freak … you are a great, great show, and you will come now … for everyone watching … thank you …" _

- to be continued -


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

"_Fei Long … _Fei Long …_"_

A voice was calling him, unbearably sweet.

"Don't come to me yet!"

Light was swirling around him, glowing multicoloured specks embedded in blazing shifting mists. He didn't know that voice, and he did. Had he not already been scattered, the yearning would have blown him apart.

"I never forgot you Fei Long, I'm always with you, I had to leave you so early" … whoever wielded the voice had the same feelings.

He wanted to see who it was, and he didn't, because it would change nothing, it would make it worse. There was no one there for him, he was hallucinating, and he let himself fall back into darkness, pain and endless shame.

- to be continued -


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Mikhail was dashing through the supernaturally bright morning, a scream tugging at his heart, but his mind clear in a way he had never known before.

It was Fei collapsing into his arms all over again.

Only this time, though the Chinese wasn't even there, he knew exactly where he stood. As if it had been there all his life, behind an invisible curtain, suddenly drawn back.

Holding him in his arms in the pub, Mikhail had thought this was completion. If there had been a fight, if he had to fight for Fei and didn't survive, that was the right way to go, fine to leave this world.

But then _Fei _kicked in … touching him like that … melting into his arms … looking at him in a way he couldn't even have imagined in his wildest dreams … taking him to a place where he had never been before. What had been pale, barely outlined, burst into glowing colour. The random frazzles of his life fused into yearning sense.

Gaining the prize for his master plan of re-structuring formerly crime dominated regions, for his supposedly alibi studies of Politics & Economics - now even Alexej had to acknowledge he was not merely some academically lightweight sporty playboy nitwit! It really was a piece of genius, brilliant PR for his family, kind of a moral money laundering scheme …

What would his Chinese colleague - he chuckled at this - make of it? He couldn't wait to show him …

Managing Macau for the last year, where he had first caught sight of the Triad Leader. He had been interested immediately, had thought at first this was because Liu Fei Long was a rival … why oh why had he so stubbornly refused to learn Cantonese, then? Always insisting on interpreters, as if … in a mad vision he saw themselves in a cosy breakfast scene, some twenty years later, a marital idyll - but between them, bowing, smiling, maddening, a Chinese _interpreter … _interpreting "I love you" back and forth_ - _ok, so his Cantonese and Fei's Russian allowed for that level of communication, but for everything even slightly more complex … and then, in a flash, he realized that this was a _Fei _thought, it was Fei's kind of humour! He was already thinking Fei thoughts, knew him so well already!

He took a jumping short cut over a particularly tangled, ancient looking grave site, leaving a print. On!

Mastering tempera in his own painting … that last one had brought the break through, had begun to live, to speak to him … he wanted it to speak to his love!

He passed a row of benches, several old people in faded black much like what he was wearing soaking up the warmth of the sun, just barely turning their heads to look after the glowing, golden haired young man, half in the afterworld already …

… having to lie face downward on a green surgical cloth for what felt like an eternity, so many people fighting for his life, and far worse, sounding sorry for him … him, whom all had always admired, envied, even feared.

It was all fine if it had brought him to this moment! He wanted to live forever now, with Fei.

Mikhail Arbatov moaned out loud, crashing even faster through the wild overgrown cemetery, hurtling back from Alexej's fraternity, through the clear spring light, all mists burned away by the sun's growing power.

They hadn't even had proper sex yet! They had never really talked. They had never woken up next to each other! Fei had already been gone this morning … unspeakable anxiety threatened to black him out.

He wanted to show him all of his pictures! Even if he thought he knew his taste from History of Art, he wanted so bad for him to say something about them! even something terrible! For it would be terrible to lay himself open like that …

He was streaking along effortlessly, gracefully … running came so naturally to him it couldn't stall his fantasies …

… waking up next to Fei baby every morning for the rest of his life, thinking of a new silly nickname for every single day … watching his dark narrow eyes flutter open, unfocussed at first like when he had pushed up the eyelids in the pub … or coming to his senses and have them already sparkle into his own like a million crazy morning stars … their bodies tangled into every position described in the Kama Sutra - and a few more thrown in for good measure …

… entering History of Art hand in hand with the Chinese every single time from now on, everyone acknowledging this as a matter of course … especially on April first, his own birthday … his love proudly (but also a little shyly, he _was_ a little shy, how could he never have seen that?) announcing "Misha's special wish" - he wanted to hear Fei call him Misha!

His laboured breathing thundered in his own ears.

_He wanted another kiss from him, now._

He hurtled on, turning onto the main path, the cemetery gates in sight, passing startled joggers, riding a surreal, dreamlike high.

He saw himself holding court at the Café St. Petersburg, Fei snuggling against him, his shimmering head on his shoulder, announcing their engagement to everyone who wanted to hear, and everyone who didn't … sliding his mother's diamond ring onto his love's slender finger … the pinky one probably, he _was_ a man …

… saw themselves arm in arm in Kowloon's street markets, jabbering high speed in Cantonese, both of them incognito, stopping at corner shops, feeding each other exotic tidbits … holding hands, kissing, for hours, days, life.

Street lights and traffic marked the end of the cemetery park, bringing him back to earth, but not much. He ignored red lights and dodged cars with squealing brakes, drivers honking and cursing. Misha ran on.

He wanted to share his baby's first time in the snow, sledging over vast Siberian plains under the Northern Lights, both of them swathed into the same furry wrap … their body warmth defying the cold of outer space, their two clouds of breath intermingling, revelling in the delicious smell and that breathless, muted, infinite feeling only a starlit snow landscape gave … connecting to the universe … defying death.

He desperately wanted him to be safe.

- to be continued -

3


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

At the Atomic Physics Institute he was awaited by the two Japanese. Akihito was snapping closed his mobile, Takato pacing anxiously. None of them commented on Mikhail coming alone.

"It's locked."

Mikhail was so out of breath he could say nothing. He immediately scrambled up to look into the window of the common room.

There was nobody in there.

"Perhaps I'll hold watch at that fraternity - is it the turn of the century villa next to the Pathological Institute?" Takato said, "a medical school fellow student of mine lives there too … I'll immediately notify you in case …"

In case of what... none of them, even Akihito, knew how this was going to play out. Alexej … they couldn't believe …

Gasping, Mikhail nodded, briefly looking after Takato, who took off at once.

"Who did you telephone with, Akihito?"

The glowing, athletic Russian and the slender, wiry Japanese fixed each other in a blinding glare.

Akihito gave in first, when he saw the anguish in the other's eyes.

"I know you don't trust him, and I can't expect you to understand … but believe me, _nobody_ knows where … Fei Long … is right now, except perhaps your friend …"

They were standing very close to each other, and again Akihito felt irritated about something in Mikhail's aura, perhaps some scent he gave off …

A very attractive gay, or possibly, like himself, bisexual, the handsome blonde of the Russian Trio. He had taken instant dislike to him yesterday evening, perhaps because he had spelled trouble, drinking and ranting, thought him a decadent, unrestrained brat, spoilt by power. Much like the Triad Boss, only worse: Liu Fei Long had at least earned his position (though he didn't want to know how, exactly). Mikhail Arbatov, on the other hand, surely hadn't done anything productive all his life, offspring of that parasite clan, greedy and dangerous. Now however … Fei Long seemed to bring out something completely different in him, he was glowing as if on fire …

"Pjotr saw you. In the backyard, with that professor … and he heard what he was saying, about …", again it seemed he didn't want to speak his love's name in front of a person he obviously mistrusted.

Akihito blushed a fiery red. But that was of no importance now.

"Then listen to me!" he almost shouted. "What Asami … what he wants from Fei Long, is nothing other than what he expects from _me_!"

Mikhail grabbed his head with both hands, forcing his face upwards, staring into his eyes with an intensity that indeed brought to mind his terrible uncle. And the smell. It reminded him of something, something so … horrible, something he would give anything not to have experienced, but he couldn't remember what it was …

"If Pjotr told you what he saw … do you still think he intends to harm Fei Long? Do you think Asami wants to … harm _me_?"

…

A few minutes later, Takato gone, Akihito and Mikhail were standing side by side against the grey concrete wall of the Atomic Physics Institute, grasping the high up sill, repeatedly heaving themselves up to get a glimpse inside. Glancing sideways, it struck Akihito again what fire, what passion the blonde Russian gave off … because he was freshly in love? Even in his too small old sweat suit he looked beautiful. The faded black brought out the silvery golden highlights in his wavy wild hair, and the tight fit accentuated his athletic build. Like some kind of Nordic runway model ninja, swarming out for his threatened beloved … whom he, Akihito, alone couldn't stand ... there, he had admitted it to himself.

He heaved himself up once more, catching another peek into the deserted machine filled room - still no trace of the missing two - and Mikhail's right hand came to lie directly in front of his nose. And suddenly … again … he got a strong whiff of what must indeed be Fei Long…

… and the memories came crashing back.

- to be continued -


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30 (Akihito's smell induced memory)

The operation of his base group last summer on Hong Kong Island. Nothing out of the way, at first … street working in the humid, overcast heat … passing flyers on neon lit Hollywood Road after tropically sudden nightfall … organizing a demo through Central … even enjoying themselves, the spices, sights, crowds, amid the spectacular skyline, beneath the subtropical jungle greens of The Peak. This was so much more southern than Tokyo, exotic to him. He remembered how he used to feel guilty about the adventure vacation aspect of his work. But at one guided supervision meeting they had learned that, on the contrary, this was important, that it was essential to take good care of yourself, that you could not help anyone else if you didn't, might even do more harm than good. Perverted helper's syndrome.

Then … observing the target milieu (taking care not to get involved personally, always difficult for him) … you had to know what you were looking for. The youths lounging around, seemingly aimless … the discreet business types … once he even thought he could discern the silhouette of a suited, longhaired man amidst a gaggle of goons with dark glasses - but he might have imagined this … the elusive Triad Leader Liu Fei Long? He had tried to get an interview with him, of course, but had been brushed off by a Cantonese voice - with a faint Japanese accent, he was sure of it …

Finally: infiltrating the scene … his mission.

"You don't have to do that! No one expects it from you!"

But he had wanted to. Always researching, talking, discussing … what did it _feel_ like for those involved? Of course it would not be the same thing, he was in control … now, at any rate … there would invariably come that moment when he wasn't, anymore.

He had prepared himself carefully, re-dying his bleached hair, changing his appearance effectively with a little re-styling. He looked very young and didn't have to do anything about that.

It had been surprisingly (and frighteningly) easy to get himself picked up … he remembered a limousine with darkened windows halting after what felt like barely a minute after he had taken up his stance at the street corner.

Cantonese speaking men got off, arguing somewhat frantically. He understood almost nothing of the Cantonese, but "fast" was one fragment he did pick up, and the tone and whole manner of his "recruiters" spelled urgency.

A cloth was bound around his eyes, and they took off …

Eventually, again after what seemed almost no time at all, he was led into what had the feel and smell of a vast, elegant mansion - polished wood, swishing of leather soles on marble floors, muted tones, an atmosphere of supreme wealth and power.

Here too, this disturbing sense of emergency was overlying everything, hushed, anxious whispering, and had he correctly made out "he's done it again" in passing? He was almost pushed into a … room, he supposed, although it had this same vast feeling to it, stumbling over carpet so soft his feet sank in. His shoes had been pulled off, but otherwise no one did anything to him. The door fell closed with a discreet, luxurious click, and then some one addressed him in rushed Japanese. (And he felt certain he knew that voice … had heard it again …)

"At last, come with me, _pleasure him _…"

His heart dropped into his figure hugging leather pants. The moment of truth. Except it felt different than he had expected. There was no malice in the - native speaker's - Japanese voice, more urgency, even … panic. Tuning in to the interior of the room he became aware of strangled, gasping sounds, intermingled with what might be feeble thrashing on blanket covers … besides the scent of flowers, expensive fabrics and an unobtrusive but very male odour coming from the Japanese leading him towards those unsettling sounds, another smell was emerging … blood. A wave of terror broke over him.

The powerful (he could feel it from the grip of his hand) Japanese led him forth as gently as his obvious agitation allowed. His knee met the padded edge of a … bed, he supposed. From underneath his blindfold he could just make out a narrow strip of floor, but not who lay on the bed … and now the Japanese was guiding his hand down …

He sensed another human presence, warmth of another heavily breathing body … a musky smell overlaid with hints of ginger, patchouli and exotic spices … his heart began beating wildly as his hand was pushed down gently but urgently … onto shivering smooth skin, damp with sweat.

A sting of electrical discharge jolted through both him and his … client … at the first contact. His hand was guided over subtle undulations of abdominal muscling - he flinched - and further downward … and then, his head was nudged downwards a bit.

In a flash it was clear to him what was expected. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him … they wanted him to …

… he fought against blacking out …

… he couldn't do this … but he had, hadn't he? with Asami … this … man, he now knew, having met with resistance … a silky, semi erect male member, no pubic hair, not even any hint of shaving … this man was built smaller than his love, he _could_ do it …

He _had_ to do it. He lowered his face. The stench of blood intensified, and along with it a tangy scent he would probably have found intoxicating had the whole situation not been so terrible … from under his blindfold he could identfy glowing tan skin and the smooth male genital he was tentatively tracing, making it grow and harden. What he could see of his client was young and attractive - nothing like what he had thought to fear most - some withered old pervert - but it was scarier than in his wildest nightmares, a horrifyingly chilling feel to it … he almost cried out aloud when, in his extremely limited field of vision, he saw red glistening. A jagged line of deep glistening red … starting on the inner thigh, descending into the shadows of this young person's nether parts. Panic swept over him, as his compatriot's strong hand nudged him downward again. He was a thing, a being without any options of his own … oh why had he thought he could do this, this was far worse than ever imagined, maybe he wouldn't even survive … ?

"I can't feel anything…"

Akihito jolted at the sound of the soft, cold, lifeless voice. It was a beautiful voice, somewhere between baritone and tenor, in the characteristic Cantonese Chinese sing song intonation, lovely … so clear that despite his meagre knowledge of the language, crammed specifically for this stint (and a bit from kung fu movies), he thought he had understood correctly. And it was an inhuman voice, almost like from an automaton. It was almost impossible to resist the urge to tear off his blind fold, to flee.

He could feel pressure waves of anxiety ... they had to come from the Japanese, because now he urged, almost begged … "get on with it! do something…", pushing his head downwards … and with a searing jolt his mouth closed around the head of the beautiful arrow shaped cock.

It wasn't all that unpleasant, a little salty, acrid … if there hadn't been that smell of blood … that was nauseating, deeply frightening … would he be hurt too? Asami … would they ever see each other again? Wasn't he - cheating on him? He hadn't even thought of that aspect before, how could he … but would Asami even care? … he wasn't aware his eyes were tearing up, a few drops escaping from under his blindfold and falling onto his … client.

There was some reaction now, the cock in his mouth and hand immediately got hard. Thank goodness. Tentatively Akihito began licking at the tip, and started working his mouth back and forth over the shaft. The cock twitched, and he could feel the young man under him tensing, responding in an unexpectedly gratifying way. It had to be a beautiful body, so very young too, so … pliable …

Maybe this wasn't so impossible after all, perhaps he could even … bring this person some solace? He seemed desperately unhappy … and he had to be hurt quite bad, the smell of blood coming off his body was so intense …

He accelerated the motions with his mouth, even caressing the tip of the cock with his tongue ... severe suffering, that was the overall feeling here … he stroked and fondled the base of the cock, the smooth balls with a feeling verging on compassion. A soft moan interspersed with the gasping sounds … sending a thrill of excitement through Akihito's body, making his own cock twitch.

"You're a really nice boy, really great", he heard the Japanese' voice with what sounded almost like a sob … and suddenly he didn't feel so much like a thing any more, "help him, please help him …", it was a most unsettling sound, that forceful Japanese voice almost wailing in a singsong, "help him, please … please, make him stop …"

The Cantonese voice was to be heard again, softer now, muffled, with a strangled tone, almost as if his client was crying too.

"I still … can't feel … anything …"

… but his body apparently did.

And when it was over, when they both lay recovering, the young man below him heaving and shuddering, he himself collapsed onto his "client" gasping and panting … there came a sweaty hand, tentatively touching his hair - he had to steel himself not to jerk away, it would have made no sense at all. There was a long pause, filled only by both of their laboured breathing. When he heard the beautiful young voice again it was so low he couldn't be sure if it really sounded different. In Japanese, he thought he could make out the words_, "_don't cry, little brother …"

He leaned his head against the grey concrete wall, exhaling.

… so Fei Long had felt something after all, must have even felt the drops of Akihito's tears splashing onto his hot and cold bare skin.

"What's the matter with you?"

Akihito took a deep breath, noticing he had been gripping the metal plane so hard it had cut into his palm. Hastily licking off the tiny drop of blood pooling in the fissure, he shook his head - as if to shake off the past, deny this reality …

"I'm breaking in", Mikhail announced, heaving himself right onto the sill with incredible athletic prowess. "Shield your face!" he commanded as he shoved his elbow through the glass plane, sending a sprinkle of shards flying, dusting them off rapidly but thoroughly before pulling Akihito up after him and into the Institute.

- to be continued -

5


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Cloud Chamber Rain

(Fei's theme song: 'People Are Strange' from the album 'Strange Days' by 'The Doors')

In the dusty cellar lab down in the heart of Atomic Physics, the two young men, one Eurasian, the other south eastern Asian, were still lounging side by side, elbows on the rim of the strange, cloudy device, staring into it, thoughts sparking through their minds like the subatomic particles through the saturated mists of the Cloud Chamber.

Going back into Akihito's for breakfast had to have been the most courageous thing he had ever done in his life.

All his instincts had urged him to flee, to make his way to the private airfield and jet back to Hong Kong. Danger? Ha. He was a trained assassin. Even Taramasov here - he might not be able to shake him off like at Akihito's, there he _had_ used the element of surprise - but he wouldn't let him near enough! And then that Russian brawn stood no chance against him. He lived a precarious life, death was part of it, he didn't mind.

_Tao. _The thought of leaving Tao alone in this world hurt, hurt badly … but it might not be helped. He had known this all along and set everything up for him. Tao was twelve, was accepted to Eton for the summer term, he would make it … with a little help from Yoh perhaps …

_Yoh! _As hazy as some parts of yesterday evening remained, one thing was relentlessly resurfacing, clear and terrible - that push … _Yoh had pushed him_ when he felt the stinging pain in his thigh … Yoh! _not Yoh too _… and was he going mad, or had he really, before losing consciousness, Misha's arms already around him, seen Yoh, not really fighting, exchanging a look with Asami … ?

Asami_._

Fei squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and exhaled audibly, causing Alexej beside him to stir.

Asami had been there, yes, or was that part a dream after all, after seven years …

… his - mentor? first love? … the familiar rush of despair called forth by the smallest thing reminding of him …

… looking up at someone from out of a car … a handsome, male Japanese face… a bar of the kind where they had met, formal, very different from the student's pub … the modern decor of a luxurious hotel room …

He had never re-entered his father's guesthouse where Asami had kissed him, where they had sex, _perfect sex, he thought bitterly _… but he hadn't sold it either.

For some time he even thought he could never return to Hong Kong. The most random things, like being given a glass of orange juice … or being informed his coat was at the cleaner's … rain … could bring on a wave of desolation, a sense of falling out of the world not even the most brutal Kung Fu training could ease ...

... he shivered.

... now, something was different ... for the first time, thinking of that time with a person he had never really questioned … he felt mostly plain angry. Jerk! What a naïve little fool he had been, running right into it … and just a little bit forlorn … it had somehow given him a hold, the searing pain that name always brought up in him, even when making him … do that …. hurt himself … and it was suddenly as if behind a glass barrier, one step removed.

This morning, it was not because of fear he had stayed. He had stayed …

… because he wanted to.

Because, through the void of his world, there was now piercing this cruel, white hot pin point of hope.

In some deep down, hidden, bluebeard's chamber, dusty, approached only once before, a little door had opened, just a chink, but the flood was released, there was no turning back, no return to his old self.

Giving in to Akihito, who in some way had to do with the day he changed … going back to his classmates, who were acting so puzzling towards him … _going back to face Misha _… there was nothing in the world he wanted so much.

And nothing he was so afraid of.

- to be continued -

3


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

"Professor Arbatov … ?"

"Schneyder!"

"Professor, I present to you the records … on our second subject."

"Ah! At last. If you bungle again …", the towering, stark man in the impeccable white lab coat didn't have to raise his voice to make it menacing, accepting the stack of printouts with his trademark lack of mimic and gesture, making the man in front of him shift uncomfortably in his fashionable antique leather jacket. His indistinct middle European features were tense, and his pale eyes flickered nervously, while his left hand inadvertently strayed to his thigh, as if feeling a wasp sting there.

"He's perfect! Sir, you won't believe it … ", Schneyder hurried to supply, stuttering almost … striving to keep his superior's thoughts from straying to dangerous paths ... he was not his type … but with Yuri Arbatov you learnt the hard way it was better never to be too sure of yourself …

"1,73m … hmmm … would have preferred a little taller", Arbatov was leafing through assemblage of photographs, newspaper scans, lab sheets and something that looked like digital code, except that instead of 0 and 1 it showed four letters, A,C, G and T, in ever changing permutations. "You know what will be his role … and Liu is tall and strong … but it is of no matter … the freak will be in no position to defend himself … hmmm … I have seen that boy before …"

"Professor Arbatov?"

"What is it, Dr. Jang?"

"I was under the impression … um … that you intended to … yourself …"

The chilling doctor drew himself up to his full height. "Dr. Jang!" now the colleague who had studied the medical textbook with him earlier cringed. The man called Schneyder shot him a snide glance, straightening up smugly. "No reason to get too full of yourself … degenerate capitalist scum … ", Arbatov muttered in his direction (in Russian). Schneyder obviously understood enough of this to instantly tense and pale again. Arbatov was continuing in an icy voice,

"Dr Jang! Where is your professional ethos! We are not staging this exhibition for our entertainment … we are sacrificing our life time for the greater good … the scientific knowledge of mankind …"

If Dr. Jang remembered Arbatov's earlier display of passion, he was prudent enough to give no indication of it. And certainly not that it might have to do with the rumours of Arbatov's not being able to …

Arbatov resumed studying the data.

"Is this correct, is this his date of birth … ?!"

Schneyder leaned over, careful not to come into direct body contact with his superior.

"These data are from the Obstetrical Department of the Seibo Hospital, Tokyo … a scan of all births in May1946 … "

"Then he is … over 60 … ?!"

Schneyder surely deemed it wise to hold back a tempting remark on basic calculating abilities …

"Yes, sir … if you would care to direct your attention to this gene locus … 11 q 21.3 - 22.4 …"

"The daf-2 gene … interesting … ", Arbatov screwed up his eyes, stilling. "Hmmm …", he rapidly began checking against a file on his computer screen, "yes …"

Letter sequences flitted past, Arbatov and also Dr. Jang following with rapt attention, two pairs of eyes switching back and forth, from printout to screen, as if following a tennis match.

"Negrajotny!" - "Qi you ci li de!" (Russian / Mandarin for "incredible")

Jang remained silent after this, while Arbatov's gasps grew louder with each passing sequence of base-pairs, until he was almost shouting. His colleague drew back uncomfortably, taking utmost care though to do so discreetly.

"_Yes! … _it is so. Ah. Gentlemen. The longevity mutation …"

"The subject's mother is reported to have been worried about high radiation levels … but the baby was born healthy to all appearance. Some pictures of assorted stations of his life … first row, second from left, 1963 Musashino Jushi Gakuin graduation class, note the "V" formed by the subject's index and middle finger, the so called "Peace" sign … May '64, New York's Times Square, protesting against the Vietnam war … 1967, Berlin, "Kommune 1" … Nicaragua, eighties, anti Sandinistas … early nineties, reconstruction there … rural Japan in the late nineties, growing organic rice … and here - the boy with the tank top all but baring his chest, holding a banner - leading a demo against teenage prostitution on Hong Kong Island last summer." Schneyder shot a wary glance at the Russian, who's expression was impenetrable. "Finally, here … the most recent image … "

"I knew it …", Arbatov narrowed his eyes to icy slits, "I have seen this … man? before … St. Petersburg, the photographer … Schneyder!"

Even though having premeditated this, Schneyder couldn't help jerking.

"Why haven't I been informed of this before?"

"You were informed, sir …"

Schneyder stared at his superior levelly, continuing silently,

'you _were_ informed …yesterday … but you did not listen … _Bok _(Russian for "god") almighty … you were thinking only of the other one … the beautiful one … the one you crave … the Hong Kong Triad whore … the_ freak _…", Schneyder narrowed his eyes, too, "_the one I got a good look at yesterday evening_ … before his Japanese … boyfriend? handcuffed me … _I'll kill him for that _… after his other boyfriend, the pissed Goldilocks … _your nephew_, almost spewed on my arm … ", he was breathing heavily in silent, rising fury, 'maybe tonight will turn out different than you imagine? Maybe your nephew will watch while _I_ nail his damaged sweetheart … and _you _can watch me, _too _… doing what you would kill to be able to … old man … pathetic can't-get-it-up dictator of science.'

Dr. Jang was looking over at him suspiciously now, but Prof. Arbatov remained oblivious and uninterested. Schneyder shut his eyes briefly. When he went on he seemed to have a complete grip on himself again.

"There is another interesting genetic aberration described for the second subject … a mutation in the 14 p 2.1 - 2.7 locus, first isolated from relics of Christian martyrs … associated to extremely altruistic, but also highly fanatic behaviour, regardless of self preservation … fit's the bio, don't you think?… Takaba Akihito, does the name sound a bell? …the activist photographer …"

" … the A/A variation of the SAINT gene?! But that is extremely rare! And such a combination …", Arbatov's eyes glowed like blue phosphorus, "I know another person who is a homozygote carrier of this anomaly … took a sample from him on the gentlemen's, he did not notice, and I have analyzed him", he chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills down the spines of both Jang and Schneyder, "… at that oh so very useful group, eight years ago now, it is … ah … "

He gripped the sides of his office chair, sitting up very straight, staring unseeingly in front of him.

"Dr. Jang … Schneyder …", now Arbatov brought to mind a catholic priest doing the incantation to summon up transsubstantiation, "Taramasov will not fail us … he is more intelligent than Schneyder here, and Kirishima I will deal with yet … also, ah … Asami …", he took no notice of Schneyder's clenched fists, "ah, Alexej … my worthy master of matter and bits … and tight embraces … you will deliver Liu to me … and _you_, Schneyder, will provide … this Takaba. It is your last chance. Dr. Jang."

He sighed, like a kindly, only slightly disappointed old father, but otherwise did not move a muscle.

"I am proud to announce the most memorable … service … for you and our other distinguished … guests. Lecture room four, 8 pm, sharp, tonight."

- to be continued -

4


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

_Nobody had ever looked at him like that _…

Fei was leaning low over the Cloud Chamber, his hair beginning to loosen out of his ponytail, almost covering his face in a sweeping wave.

Alexej beside him, lost in his own thoughts, turned a little towards him.

"It's too late …", came from behind the shimmering dark curtain, "I can't do it … it will never be …"

The other young man watched him silently as him lowered his head almost into the appliance.

"Of course you can't be a teacher anymore, you're making a million times more a year …"

The Triad Leader jerked up. "Yes! I am!" he gave wild laugh. "I could hire any international specialist! … I could _buy_ them!"

He turned to the scientist, twisting his expressive features into an almost comical look. "I could buy _you_!"

When Alexej didn't answer he narrowed his eyes, challenging.

"Can I tell you something?" the wrestler asked.

Liu Fei Long inclined his head in an echo of his former imposing ways, quirking his eyebrows quizzically.

"Can I hold you in my arms to do it?"

"Pardon …?" The Chinese froze, staring in disbelief.

The Russian let a cloudy gaze pass over him. He seemed in some inner turmoil, visible in the way he lowered his eyelids and his breathing quickened. He looked away first, his eyes briefly flickering down to the Cloud Chamber. His lack of body tension suggested he was not going to enforce the request.

"… after that, I promise, I'll never touch you again."

Fei held his position, his face motionless, assessing. When his classmate looked up he surprised himself by giving just the slightest nod. They straightened up, the Kung Fu fighter watching the wrestler warily, like two contestants before a match. But Alexej waited until the Chinese had given another small nod, before grasping his shoulders and encircling him with his powerful arms.

"I'm _sorry_."

Fei tensed and frowned dangerously, a lovely expression on him, but let the Russian draw him in lightly against his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry I taunted you, and with that boy girl thing too … at that Eco's."

Alexej just barely brushed Fei's temple with his nose, a strange, incongruous gesture, since the Chinese' body was tautened into a graceful warrior's stance, beautiful but deadly.

"I was jealous, you know … of Misha last night …"

A jolt went through the supple fighter, and Alexej steadied him loosely.

"Yes … I know … totally uncalled for at the moment … "

_Nobody had ever given him such a feeling. _

"I can't imagine a gay life … no children … everything else it stands for … I'm not like Misha …"

… _scary __…_

Alexej's voice was getting a little muffled, he had lowered his head onto Fei's shoulder.

… _he was losing himself __…_

"I know this is a terribly bad moment, but there won't be any better … have to get it over with…", the Russian sounded under his breath, rushed,

… _there would be nothing left of him __…_

"for this one tiny moment in eternity … _now_ … it's you and _me __…_ an alternate universe … where I am gay … or you are all woman. And will be my wife."

… _he had to flee __…_

"You don't have to say anything … have to squeeze you a bit - please protest if you can't breath any more."

… _but someone was holding him tight, and saying strange things __…__ it felt __…_

After a while Alexej released the slender Asian enough to look into his face. "You're worried? don't be …"

… _good __…__ it felt good __…_

"Going on and on about you … unforgivable. I mean Misha did too, yesterday night! But that was different …"

… _don__'__t black out!_ Misha.

" … and you chose. And perhaps you're right. I've known him for ever, and he's been waiting so long now, patiently … "

Fei blinked, staring at the Russian.

" … ok …", Alexej supplied, gently, "… not so patiently, we both know it's not his strong suit, patience … oh you are sweet when you blush, _won__'__t _kiss you, don't know if I could make myself stop then … so he's waiting impatiently, but unconditionally … I know that guy", he sighed.

Fei felt as if coming up from under water. But his classmate was beginning to sound more like the Alexej of the Star Wars boxers, the intelligent, cracky person he had known since four months, and what he was saying … he wanted to hear more …

Alexej caught his gaze and smiled like a cat. "You like what I'm saying … don't you?" he gave a soft laugh. "What do I get if I tell you more?"

He didn't wait for an answer, but began shifting them around, like dancing slow blues, rolling up his eyes melodramatically.

" … if you turned out to be from Mars - he'd enrol in a course for Martian!"

Now Fei laughed, hesitantly, shaking his head a little, adjusting to the wrestler's lead with natural ease. The heavy set Russian exhaled audibly, fixing the Chinese in a lascivious stare … abruptly bursting into violent motion, sweeping his classmate along with him, bending him backwards in theatrical imitation of a passionate tango. Fei followed automatically, graceful and supple, playing along like a charismatic go-go-girl from outer space.

"Ai, dai, dalalai!" *

With this shout Alexej halted them in the midst of a complicated figure. He lowered his face into Fei's hair, whispering, the Chinese turning his ear towards his mouth as if he didn't want to miss a single word.

"If you turned out to be a woman, after all, _he _wouldn't mind … he's bisexual ... did you know?"

At the mention of word 'bisexual' Fei twitched a little, but didn't answer, and Alexej twirled him around, manoeuvring them skilfully through the lab. "Oh, but you can dance! part of Kung Fu skills, huh?", the Russian breathed huskily, Fei pivoting without effort, as in a dream. He had no idea what he was. He had never cared for anyone that way, except for Asami, and Asami was a man, yes, but if he had been a woman he probably wouldn't have felt any different.

- to be continued -

* Russian refrain from a melancholic folk song

4


	34. Chapter 34

- Chapter 34 -

Splitting the Atom

The dancers had come to a standstill beside the Cloud Chamber, a little hot, but hardly out of breath.

"… and if it turned out you had two heads … Misha would simply up the number in his order for wedding tiaras …"

Fei half smiled at this last statement, as if thinking it wholly quixotic … but he had gone very still, his pupils wide, it could just be seen in his dark eyes. There was a kind of light about him, a misty bridal veil …

Alexej smiled at him ruefully.

"As awful as that video was …", he kept his voice quiet, just a hint of emotion surfacing, making Fei glance at him. "Oh god … it's sick, but I must admit … it gave me some hope! I thought perhaps - after all? I would have gone all out … to woo you away … to win you for myself. But no …"

He drew the radiant Asian closer again.

"I did some research. It's not meant to be."

He started swaying again, musing,

"in a way, you might be lucky nobody seems to have cared all that much when you were small … oh god how can I say something like that …"

"What are you talking about?"

Alexej froze.

" … you _…_you don't know?" he almost whispered.

Fei shook his head, frowning a little. "What don't I know?"

The scientist stared. The beautiful Hong Kong Mafia Boss was turning clear eyes on him, a liquid look that was making him go weak in the knees …

"Oh never mind, never mind", he almost cried out, "don't heed me! I'm being extremely stupid … again …", he added darkly.

"What do you mean?" Fei was asking on, and his tone was level, impatient even, his stance self-assured, virile … but his eyes were suddenly bright, and brimming over. The Russian watched, stunned.

The Chinese stared back at him, looking almost angry.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Alexej's hands twitched, as if to touch his classmate's wet face.

They were both breathing heavily.

Finally, the Russian spoke in a strained voice,

"… we have shaken off that Asami and his minion … and that is good …", Fei's eyes flickered, "Misha's not thinking straight at the moment …"

was there an angry undertone? The Asian shifted, his body hitching …

" … but there is someone else …"

… the Russian gazed off into space, shifting his grip on his partner, whose forced exhale hit his neck in a warm, wet gust, making him feel he was trying to hold in a churning wild sea. He unthinkingly steadied Fei's face against his shoulder, like Misha had done with him in the pub. The Chinese was still letting himself be held, was even leaning into the embrace …

… the flannel felt so soft, and so warm, against his cheek … a breathing, solid warm body … so pleasant, so human … reassuring … the smell wasn't wholly what he liked, though, too much cologne.

"Why do you have to appreciate the Nabla Operator?" the physicist whispered passionately, "do you know what some of my blockheaded students call it? 'Blabla' Operator, very funny … ", his tone rose, "there will be some Serious. Weeding. Out", he snarled in odd contrast to how tenderly he had begun brushing his nose through his guest's hair - drawing back immediately when he realized what he was doing - "next trimester …"

Fei was leaning against him, at rest, experiencing an instant of strange relaxation, even slipping into a kind of trance …

… this was ok …

… not so terrifying as with Misha -

- _whom he would lose again_.

Who could never be serious with him, no matter what his old friend was saying … no matter how Misha himself had looked at him this morning … he gasped … _no! _

… _nobody could want him __…__ not the way he was __…_

Despair lunged at his heart, plunging him, with familiar abruptness, into his familiar abyss of utter nothingness … he tensed and shuddered, not really feeling Alexej rock him in his arms a little, keeping up a steady stream of talk to calm him …

"that whole Nietzsche 'Over-Man' crap … a lot of us going into science have a weak spot there … 'to perceive whatever holds / the world together in it's innermost folds'… Dr. Faust making a pact with the devil to get hold of that knowledge, putting up his soul as a bargain, we understand that …"

The Chinese was heaving, and now the strong Russian lightly nudged his ear with his nose. "Other than _our_ marrying", and that actually had the intended effect, rousing the shuddering bundle of despair in his arms, even making him give a shaky little laugh, "now, none of that! no laughing here! won't stand for it! Other than that _…_who gives a damn about your … special disposition?" he slit his eyes, like fixating prey. "Those doctors", he went on sharply, "whoever hasn't been stuck with some label? Me - I've got only one kidney …. that's a lot more restricting, huh. They almost wouldn't let me go into competitive sports…"

"Yes …?"

"Yes … they have no idea … "

The Chinese seemed struggling for composure.

"Last year, I got lured in by Arbatov, Misha's uncle."

There was no reaction, Fei had bowed his head. Alexej was absentmindedly but methodically stroking the hard contours of his muscles through the soft stuff of Misha's sweatshirt, still clasping him, murmuring on, as if to himself …

" … it was long before yesterday … actually the moment I first met you personally … last November … Leonardo, that cute pic with the four arms and legs, and you saying it was his way of showing man as a superhuman being, as a superhero, as Spider Man, the eight limbs, you know, made me laugh … and I knew it is Arbatov … who is the 'Under-Man' here … not really human …"

He let both of his hands come to rest on the Asian's supple back, not quite covering it … looking at the shining bowed head, going on quietly, deliberately,

" … and he isn't even really the boss, is he? don't know when I realized that … there was always some mysterious reference, a power behind the scenes, someone who had the money … Arbatov, for all his old family riches, he always needs more, he's bad with money, he is dependent, and doesn't he resent it! but I don't think he personally knows who it is, they never met like that, I think … now I wonder … "

The beautiful face was rising now … fixing Alexej in a look of - almost disdain? the sparkling dark eyes taking on an eerie look, sending a shiver over the hefty Russian …

_And I can__'__t even say why I__'__m suddenly certain that person is you._

It was quiet down under the face of the earth.

_And yet you screamed out in terror at the mention of Professor Yuri Arbatov __…__ you don__'__t know what is the matter with you, you seem to have no consciousness of that video __…__ made for __…__ and shown to us by __…__ Misha__'__s uncle __…__ as you don__'__t seem to know why you are crying __…__ and not even that you are crying __…_

"You are with those _Human Love _jerks?"

The Chinese' tone was quiet, conversational even.

Alexej did not answer, his breathing quickening slightly.

"We make money of that idiotic sect in my circles", Fei was going on, as if musing, " … some of my 'colleagues', you might say, still recruit", he stared at Alexej without any expression, very strange since his beautiful face was still tear streaked.

"Until I put a stop to it, at least in my organization", he went on in the same strange voice, "I had never given it much thought before … but then something happened last year." He stilled, his eyes taking on a searching look. "I had, you might say, an encounter, with … someone."

He seemed to be trying to make sense of something, his gaze turning inwards, then slowly nodding.

"And after that … nothing was the same any more."

He looked up again, suddenly.

"I'm sorry", he said, "I like you."

- to be continued, comments very welcome ;-) -

5


	35. Chapter 35

- Chapter 35 -

In the crowded conference room the projection had come to an end, a blizzard of static taking over the screen. The audience remained silent for an endless, stretching moment, staring on in shock … and self consciousness. Everyone present had shared young Liu … in - was it _his_? - most intimate, most lost moment.

They did not look each other in the eye. One after the other, they released their gazes from the screen …the awareness of what they hat just witnessed building, not yet wanting, or daring, to acknowledge all of the implications … Asami strangely absent, strangely tentative … one figure alone standing upright in the haze, the sombre Japanese fighter monk, forming an eerily quiet centre of energy.

_What a desperate job it was to keep him alive __…__ not only in prison. He was so strong, so skilled __…__ and so sick. They all lusted after him, even the wardens. He had that sick __"__come hither__"__ scent about him, drove everybody wild __…__ and from the outside, nobody seemed to care. Everybody had to have a stab at him, made a game of it, actually __…__ and they didn__'__t even know he was a __…__ o god. And you never warned me __…__ it was the first time he tried to hurt himself I saw it __…__ felt it __…__ needed my whole strength to stall the jagged rim of that can __…__ him not making for his pulse, or his throat, as I expected __…__ but for that place. Had he not been half out of himself, I wouldn__'__t have managed __…__ it was a struggle __…__ I__'__ll never, as long as I live, forget that feeling __…__ o god. When my hand slipped off, and sank in __…__ and he? he screamed __…__ screamed your name __…_

Yoh shook himself.

"You are a monster."

Asami remained motionless, regarding his mysterious 'employee' as if seeing him for the first time.

Their whole professional life together was whirling through his mind. Coming face to face with the sole survivor of that other tragedy for the first time. Here, he was not at fault. Others had failed … had disregarded all evidence, had failed to prevent, failed to protect. Another young man bereft of his family. But how different this one had been. If he had ever been in mourning, he must have completed the process; he appeared still and withdrawn, but strangely without bitterness. He had never struck Asami as being religious, but it did seem he was drawing on some hidden source of inner strength. He had wanted to associate with Yoh on first name base at once, felt here was an equal. It was Yoh who declined. And still, he did not quite know why.

Of course he had no idea what kind of life Yoh had led in that secluded settlement of the sect in northern rural Japan. The world in general had heard of them for the first time when they had committed what was thought to be mass suicide. Not the least reason for this suspicion being that the massacre had taken place in the Aokigahara Jukai forest on the northwest base of the Mt. Fuji, also called 'suicide forest'. A forest warden said he would never have thought it, he was more alerted to look out for single people, and here was this whole busload of people arriving, and never returning …

What Yoh's role had been, why he alone (and possibly one other person, a European girl whose body was still missing) had survived, remained a mystery. His martial arts skills, his immense knowledge, his meditative self control … the sect was not known to further this.

Yoh had at once volunteered to 'take over' the Liu case, to proceed with what he himself could not do … _should_ not do, had such desperate reasons not to … why could Yoh not understand this, all of a sudden?

The assembly watched as their shining warrior, and their dark one, locked eyes.

"It's not only him", Yoh's voice shook, and there was a world of emotion in that 'him',

" … him… you never cared for Fei Long, to use _him_ I might even understand, might even forgive you for … "

Again Asami widened his eyes, as if genuinely curious for what Yoh might have to say.

Yoh shook his head.

"But _Takaba_, for him you do care …"

Now Asami alerted, startled …

"And even so, you use him in the most horrible way …", Yoh's voice rose.

"And I don't mean tonight."

Surprised murmurs arose.

"Quiet!"

Asami's icy command cut through the turmoil.

"Please make yourself clear", he went on, a deadly undertone creeping into his voice.

Yoh was fixing him in cold fury.

"I mean last summer."

"Last summer?"

"Hong Kong Island. The demonstration against underage prostitution."

Asami narrowed his eyes, a tiger about to pounce.

"How is this a problem, Yoh? Takaba insisted on leading that demo. He is a free man. How is this misusing him?"

"I don't mean the demonstration", Yoh snarled, suddenly fear inspiring. What a dangerous persona, lurking just beneath that deceptively stoic exterior.

"I mean when you sent him to us … I recognize him now … the hippie kid, the bartender … blond hair smoothed down, dyed black … you knew our men would blindfold him … so he wouldn't know where he had been …"

Asami tensed, an incredulous look forming on his handsome face, livid …

"I mean when you sent your lover to Fei Long, as a _whore_", Yoh spat at him.

"As a _child _whore."

- to be continued -


End file.
